


"Lady Montilyet" Or, Good Times at the Fleur de Vin

by michellemagly



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Most dragon age characters are here, One Big Happy Family, Opulence, Sex Work, Strangers to Lovers, just tagging the most common ones, mentioned Isabela/Anders, mentioned Zevran/Fenris, this is a brothel AU tho so just about everyone has shacked up at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellemagly/pseuds/michellemagly
Summary: After a series of events have left Cassandra nowhere to go, she secures employment as a guard at the Fleur de Vin, Val Royeaux's premier "house of pleasure" as the owner Varric Tethras refers to it. Each day, she watches over the whores and makes sure the customers do not take liberties with them, and the whores watch back. And tease her. But Lady Montilyet, the star of the Fleur de Vin, has taken a particular interest in Cassandra, mysterious dragonslayer and estranged nevarran royalty.*Look out for the spin-off Zevris fic Intertwined by Writersine!*





	1. Chapter 1

They kept the whores reclining on a pile of cushions and high-backed chairs, a throne of comfort piled high with rich silks that slipped through fingertips like water if you ever picked them up. The whores themselves wore fine satin dresses with low collars, low-riding pants that clung to sharp hip bones and revealed an expanse of stomach, glittering gems strung along chains of silver and gold. They were draped like window displays, given full goblets of wine to lazily twirl and sip at while giving heated looks to potential customers that wandered too close.

Cassandra had been designated to watch over all of it. The owner of the _Fleur de Vin_ did not adorn her in fine trappings like he did the whores. Instead, he insisted she wear her bulkiest, most intimidating pauldrons. Did she have gauntlets shaped like dragon’s talons? Good, wear them.

She stood leaning against the delicately latticed wood walls, hand occasionally drifting to the pommel of her longsword to suggestively stroke it when a customer decided to cause trouble. She supposed she looked intimidating enough with her scars and short hair and broad shoulders. She frightened customers so easily the whores would sometimes tease her about it.

The latest attempt was by a curvy woman with long black hair that tumbled down her bare shoulders in a way that Cassandra could only describe as _smouldering_. She walked up while the other whores watched. Cassandra noted that her gaze purposefully dragged a slow trail down her body and back up. Her fingers played along the edges of Cassandra’s shoulders, then down her arm. Cassandra clenched her jaw and tried to remain unmoving. She was not supposed to touch the merchandise, as the owner had put it.

“So where did they procure such a fine slab of muscle as yourself?” she asked.

Cassandra swallowed, mostly to loosen the tightened muscles in her throat that resulted from constantly keeping her jaw clenched. “I am from Nevarra, if that is what you are asking.” She stared at the opposite wall, trying to ignore the laughter this stirred in the other whores.

“Nevarra, hm?” The woman brought her hand up to Cassandra’s jaw and slowly traced the hard edge. “Slay any dragons there?”

“Once,” Cassandra answered truthfully.

The woman released a throaty laugh and Cassandra started to wonder if she should tell her to back away. She did not want to be rude, but the woman was impeding her ability to properly protect everyone from rude customers. “I’ve never bedded a dragonslayer.”

 _Oh no_. Cassandra only spared a quick glance down at the woman’s deep red lips and swallowed again.

“Isabela, be careful,” came a clipped antivan voice. “We don’t want to scare her off.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun, Josie.” Isabela pouted at her, batting lashes thick with mascara before turning and slinking back to the pile of feathery down cushions and silk.

Cassandra’s gaze darted quickly to the woman who had saved her. Josephine Montilyet sat in the largest of the high-backed chairs, sunk into the plush cushions with a perfectly dark, perfectly smooth leg slung over an ornately carved arm. The split in her purple and gold silk dress let the fabric fall away at the knee, revealing barely enough thigh to tease someone. Her elbow rested on the chair’s other arm, hand raised with her thumb on her chin and forefinger pressed against a high cheekbone. Her other hand held a pewter goblet covered in gold leaf. Her fingers on each hand were decorated with gold rings set with bright purple and green gems glittering in the candlelight. Gold and silver bangles covered her wrists, and a heavy golden necklace lay across her chest, the bottom talisman lingering dangerously close to her cleavage. She had wrapped her dark hair back into complex braids, weaving golden chain into the strands so that every inch of her shone with opulence.

Lady Montilyet, as she was known to everyone who was _not_ a whore at the _Fleur de Vin_ , had a face that could command fleets if she were so inclined. Her pointed chin and steeply angled jaw drew the gaze up to her prominent cheekbones. Her nose was slightly crooked, but it only enhanced her looks in Cassandra’s opinion. More jagged edges that contrasted so beautifully to the poise that was every inch of her. Lips painted a deep burgundy pulled apart as she lightly bit her lower lip. Her eyes, a deep amber in color, stared at Cassandra with calculating intent. She smiled diplomatically, then brought the goblet to her lips, still staring at her over the rim like some predatory creature observing its next kill.

Lady Montilyet could slay a dragon with that look. Cassandra did not doubt it for a second.

“My dear people!” The shout startled Cassandra from her thoughts. She looked down the hall to see the owner of the _Fleur de Vin_ walking toward them. Varric Tethras was a charismatic dwarf who kept too many buttons loose on his shirt and wore far too gaudy jewelry for someone who was not a whore. “It’s almost show time. Come on. The good people of Thedas have paid a lot to see you all perform.” He spoke with a good-natured grin and stood a respectful distance from them as the men and women extricated themselves from their thrones of comfort. Varric chuckled and waved at them as they all disappeared down a corridor that Cassandra knew led to the backstage. He turned to Cassandra and sighed deeply as he clapped his hands together. “They haven’t given you much trouble, have they?”

Cassandra felt her cheeks grow hot with blush, but she shook her head. “No, of course not.”

Varric laughed in a way that annoyingly suggested he knew they liked to tease her. “They’re a good bunch. Just...playful.” Out of all the seedy brothel owners in Val Royeaux, Varric seemed to be the best in that he genuinely cared for _all_ his employees. He sighed once more and unclasped his hands. “Well, you should come lurk at the back of the show. Don’t want the drunks trying to jump on stage with them.” He nodded down the hall and Cassandra followed him. Varric led them through a large pair of double doors intricately carved with a mural that featured, among other things, a flock of winged nugs swooping down into a field of sunflowers.

The floor show was the _Fleur de Vin’s_ most popular event, and so the room that held it was the grandest. Cassandra craned her neck to stare up at the high ceiling supporting multiple glittering chandeliers. From wall to wall, dining tables were packed with patrons from all over Orlais and beyond. They all had wine glasses, beer steins, cups overflowing with cheap alcohol that they paid far too much for considering what they could get elsewhere. _But they’re not here for drinks._

Cassandra grunted and took up her usual spot in the back of the dance hall. She leaned against one of the red and gold pillars and trained her eyes on the stage. Deep red curtains spilled over the front of it, but the spectacle would begin soon enough, and it _certainly_ was a spectacle, as Cassandra had learned. Varric was a showman that would not be topped. She watched him mingle with customers at the front in his designated _Very Important Patron_ section. He smiled and shook their hands, but his words were lost in the buzz of chatter. Cassandra crossed her arms and settled into her best frown. Varric said it helped if she looked her most menacing, anyways.

~*~

Josephine leaned into the mirror and puckered her lips, checking the shine on them before moving to her over-exaggerated eye shadow. She blinked one eye, then the other, checking to make sure the purple and gold coloring had not lost any of its sheen since Leliana had applied it. Satisfied, she moved on to powder her cheeks one last time.

“Honestly, Josie. You look lovely as always,” Leliana said, her orlesian accent adding an air of elegance to her words. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Josephine and leaned into the mirror as well, checking her own makeup one last time.

“It never hurts to be thorough,” Josephine replied. She put the brush down and began smoothing down her performance clothes. She had changed out of the dress and into loose pants with slits at her thighs and calves. She wore little more than a bra over her chest, but the patrons of the _Fleur de Vin_ did not attend the floor show expecting modesty.

Next to them, Isabela slid onto the top of a vanity and scoffed. “You both preen too much,” she said.

Josephine quickly looked her over. Isabela was ready for the show, but her clothes and makeup were messy. And yet... _It somehow works for her._

“Tiger, come here. I’ll oil your chest,” Isabela called to Anders. Josephine heard him growl in response and he soon appeared by the vanity, shirtless and wearing loose pants adorned with shimmering discs of brass. Isabela giggled as she opened a jar of oil. “And by the way, Josie, you didn’t have to spoil my fun with the new bodyguard.” She dipped two fingers into the jar and withdrew them glistening with a viscous fluid. She pressed them to Anders’ bare chest and began rubbing across his chiseled pectorals. “What’s the point of having a protective brute around otherwise?”

Anders brought his hands up to his long, golden hair and pulled the mane back so he could secure it with a leather strap. “Yeah, she didn’t look like she was suffering _too_ much.”

Josephine snorted and began pulling her rings off, plunking them into her jewelry box on the vanity. “Please, she looked positively terrified.”

Leliana smirked. She had moved on from makeup to hair, running a comb through the flaming red locks. She reached across to Isabela’s jar of oil and dabbed her finger in it quickly, then streaked her fingertips through her hair, adding just a hint of shine to it. “She’s nevarran. Probably spent more time around corpses than she has living people her entire life.” Leliana put the comb down and began braiding strands of her hair. “But...I’ve heard she’s royalty.”

Josephine placed her hands on her hips and looked herself over in the mirror one more time. She smiled at her reflection, then mused, “A nevarran princess?” _Now that’s interesting_.

Isabela shook her head. “Do you know how many royal members of the nevarran family there are? Whole country is incestuos.”

Anders waggled his eyebrows at her as her hand dipped down to begin oiling his abdomen. “Kinky. I’ve never slept with a princess before.”

“And you never will,” Josephine said firmly. Already, her mind turned with the possibilities. Cassandra, mysterious dragonslayer and supposed nevarran royalty hiding out as extra muscle in a brothel. Standing taller than most men in the _Fleur de Vin_ , she made an imposing presence with her broad shoulders and strong, square jaw. The scars on either side of her cheeks only added to her rugged charm. Her short, choppy black hair and severe frown completed her image as someone positively _medieval_ in the best way, like one of the stoic and muscular lovers in one of Varric’s naughty books. Surely there was some use in knowing a woman like that a bit... _better_. “She’s mine.”

Both Isabela and Anders immediately spoke up about that being unfair, their words jumbling over one another. “Josie, you can’t hog her all to yourself,” Isabela simpered. She put the jar of oil aside and picked up a rag to wipe her hands off.

“Yeah, what if she really wants to jump my bones?” Anders asked. He fixed her with a pout, blue eyes wide and pathetic looking.

Josephine scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not unreasonable. I get a month to court her favor. After that, you’re both free to do whatever you’d like with her.” She picked up her fan and unfolded it with a flick of her wrist, waving it a few times to practice the motions for the show. “That is, of course, if she’s willing to part from me by then.”

Isabela chuckled. “You think you’ll have her wrapped up in your charm in a month? You’ll need just a month for her to get over her shyness.”

Josephine smiled and licked her lips, pulse already quickening at the thought of proving Isabela utterly wrong. “Is that a challenge?”

She watched Isabela cock her head to one side. She crossed her arms and chewed on her lip, an indication that she was thinking through whatever considerations she needed to make. “In a month,” she began, then gestured down at Josephine’s pile of shed jewelry. “You and Cassandra _must_ have slept together. And she must want to continue seeing you. Exclusively. Otherwise you relinquish,” she dropped a hand into the pile of jewelry and extracted one of Josephine’s larger and more valuable rings, “this.” She held it up between them.

Josephine thought for a moment. The ring was worth a lot. She had hoped to set it aside as collateral in her own business venture some day. _But am I really going to lose this bet?_ She arched a brow and crossed her arms. “So what do I get when I win?”

Isabela grinned mischievously. “My best hat. You know, the one with the big feather.”

Josephine could picture the hat easily enough. Huge, three cornered with gold trimming, a plume arching out from the top. It did not necessarily fit with her style, but snatching it away from Isabela would be more than satisfying even if she never intended to wear it. She could even use it to exchange back for a favor, if needed. Josephine extended her hand and Isabela clasped it tightly. “I believe we have ourselves an accord.”


	2. Chapter 2

Josephine did not make her first move the next day, despite knowing that Cassandra had taken up residence upstairs in one of Varric’s spare rooms and that it would be all too easy to bump into her at any moment. Josephine lounged through the morning, letting Isabela poke fun at her and say they could call off the bet if Josephine had changed her mind. Josephine calmly told her she had no such intention. When Isabela pressed the issue, Josephine smiled and said, “I would sooner be paraded naked through the grand palace in front of Empress Celene than call this off.”

In the late afternoon, they took up their positions and began accepting clients for the day. Fenris was on watch for the first half of the shift, a surly and muscular elf with bright, white tattoos that extended up his arms, his neck, and probably his entire body if Josephine had to guess. He stood across from them, white hair almost expertly tousled, and broadsword clutched in his large hands, point pressed against the hardwood floors in a way Josephine  _ knew _ Varric would object to.

Isabela returned from a session with a client and collapsed in a heap next to her. She wiped a hand over her brow, pushing away sweat-soaked hairs clinging to her forehead. “So, what have you got planned for your princess?” she asked in a low-pitched voice.

Josephine ignored her in favor of watching a client pay Varric and then gesture for Zevran, the only other antivan in the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , to follow him. Fenris watched like a hawk as they disappeared down the hall that led to the private chambers.

_ Interesting _ . Josephine shrugged and said, “I have plans, yes, but none that you need to know about.”

“The clock is ticking, Josie. You’re wasting valuable time.”

Josephine smirked. “What would you have me do? Break into her room in my smallclothes and demand she ravage me?”

Anders burst out into loud, unsightly laughter that caused Fenris to scowl at him. “I would pay you to do it,” he said, craning back to look at Josephine from his position at the front of the throne of comfort. “Speaking of paying.” He smiled brightly at a young man who had entered the brothel. “Nathaniel, just on time.” He lazily stood and stretched, showing off the toned muscles in his arms. He offered his hand to the young nobleman. “The usual?”

The young man nodded stiffly and Anders led him back to another private room. Isabela leaned in and whispered, “I hear that boy likes it rough.”

“Anyone would pay to spank Anders,” Josephine replied.

Isabela smirked. “Oh no. Tiger says it’s the other way around.”

Josephine arched a brow and looked back at the hallway that led to the private chambers. “Really?”

“He’s so good at it, that boy’s apparently started paying for regular sessions.”

“Anders?” Josephine asked, almost scandalized. “He seems so...soft.”

“He has  _ such _ a wild side,” Isabela crowed. She grinned in a way that suggested she was delighting in knowing more about something than Josephine. “What if our little princess has a wild side, Josie? What are you going to do about it?”

Josephine shook her head. “I already told you, my plans are need-to-know.” And she knew that Cassandra, for one, liked to take baths downstairs early in the morning when no one else was present, a fact she had confirmed that very morning when she had decided to take a lazy stroll around the brothel. “Right now, you do not need to know.” She caught sight of a client that she had been expecting and stood from her chair. She picked her way through the pile of scantily clad bodies and throw pillows, then glanced over her shoulder and gave Isabela one last smile. “You will hardly be disappointed with what I have planned. This I promise.”

~*~

Cassandra woke early, got out of bed, and began her stretches. As she moved through her morning exercises, she thought back on the previous day. It had been somewhat odd. The days after a successful show were usually a bit chattier. The whores would tease one another about mishaps. They would ask Cassandra her opinion on different performances and tease her when she blushed. But yesterday they did no such thing. Instead they talked among themselves about trivial things and ignored Cassandra. It might have been a relief if she did not expect something... _ devious _ behind it.

After finishing her warm-up exercises, she collected her towel and a fresh change of clothes and descended the stairs down to the first floor and then the basement to where Varric kept a hot bath running along with a steam room. No one ever used it this early in the morning, meaning it was almost like having a private washroom. She opened the door and shut it behind her, careful not to let too much of the comforting heat escape. Cassandra glanced up and began walking toward the bath, then yelped and dropped her clothes as she realized  _ someone  _ was already bathing.

“Lady Montilyet! I apologize. I-” She stooped and began gathering up her clothes from the tiled floor. “I will leave immediately.” Before she had diverted her gaze, she had been treated to quite an eyeful. Josephine sat in the tub entirely naked, arms splayed over the sides and head craned back, eyes closed, black hair tumbling free, throat exposed and breasts peeking up out of the water.

She heard a soft laugh as she scrambled to pick up her scattered clothing. “Really, Cassandra. There is little need for such modesty. You have surely seen me naked already and will undoubtedly see me in more exposing and compromising positions the longer you work here.”

Cassandra’s face was hot and she knew it had nothing to do with the bathing room’s temperature. “I know, but you are clearly here to be left alone. And I…” She could not think of a way to continue the sentence. Instead, she snatched up her panties and tried to ignore the way Josephine giggled. It did  _ things _ to her stomach whenever she heard it.

“Join me, Cassandra. You know the bath is only going to get more and more crowded.”

Cassandra paused in collecting her things.  _ Maker, she’s right. _ The urge to run away was still strong, but she had also grown used to her morning baths. Skipping one now felt like such a nuisance.  _ And she asked me to stay. She knows I don’t like the crowds. Varric can’t possibly get upset at me for this _ . Cassandra cleared her throat and, being careful  _ not _ to look at Josephine, got to her feet and walked over to a bench where she deposited her clothes next to a neatly folded white shift sitting on top of a plush yellow towel that just had to belong to Josephine.

Carefully, she peeled out of her sleep shirt and pants.  _ Don’t think about Josephine staring at you. Don’t think about the fact that she can see your bottom. She sees plenty of people’s butts every day. Yours can hardly be anything worth staring at in comparison. _ A defiant part of her pushed back against that thought, but it was better to think Josephine regarded her with somewhat blase interest rather than think those penetrating stares from over the rim of wine goblets amounted to anything more than casual observation. Because that would be terrifying.

Once she was naked, she turned and shuffled toward the edge of the bath, eyes focused intently on her feet. Josephine giggled again. “My dear, you do not need to avert your gaze. I won’t take offense if you decide to stare.”

Swallowing, Cassandra lowered herself into the hot bath water and finally let herself look up, straight across to the opposite wall. Josephine sat to her side, perfectly out of sight.

She heard the sloshing of water and, damn her traitorous eyes, looked over to see Josephine moving toward her. Cassandra flicked her gaze back to the wall. “Am I really such an unsightly creature to behold?” she purred.

“Of course not!” Cassandra turned and saw Josephine sitting very close and smiling up at her with an all-knowing grin. Cassandra forced herself to maintain eye contact, although her gaze desperately wanted to wander to Josephine’s shimmering hair, down to the water droplets that rolled lazily off her neck and between her breasts, down to her shapely thighs obscured by the water’s gentle ripples, knee almost touching Cassandra’s… She looked away once more, picking up a washcloth from the corner of the tub so she could busy herself with something. “Why do you all delight in flustering me?” she muttered.

“There’s little else to do for fun while waiting for clients,” Josephine answered, her voice carrying a matter-of-fact tone. Thankfully, Cassandra heard the sloshing of water as she moved away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Josephine retrieve a washcloth of her own along with a bar of soap. “This work is hardly as glamorous as we make it seem. Humor helps.”

Cassandra turned and watched Josephine begin washing her arms. Her face had softened from a troublesome grin to a contemplative gaze. “Why do you continue to work here?” Cassandra asked. She had wondered this many times, especially since Josephine and many of the other whores seemed like perfectly capable people who could perform any number of jobs easily enough.

Josephine shrugged. “The pay is better than anything else in Val Royeaux, and Varric is a very respectful man to work for.” She glanced over at Cassandra and smiled. “Also, you will find that most the whores working here have a certain motivating factor that limits their participation in the more civil world. When you fall on hard times in Orlais, you either work in violence or sex.” Josephine frowned, the ridge of her nose wrinkling. “And I abhor violence.”

“So what hard times drove you to take employment at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ ?” Cassandra asked before she could think better of it.

Thankfully, Josephine did not get upset. She merely smiled in the sad way people did when they remembered something unfortunate and began scooping clean water to her chest. Cassandra watched the suds roll away in rivulets. “That is a story for another time, I am afraid. What caused a mighty nevarran dragonslayer to become hired muscle?”

Cassandra grimaced. She could have expected Josephine to turn the tables like this. Her mind turned over the mess of events that had caused her life to fall around her in shambles. Varric had found her sitting outside a rundown bar after she had been kicked out for having no money. He brought her to another bar, a cleaner and quieter one, and ordered her a shot of whiskey and asked her what had happened. She had messily spilled her story until her throat hurt from talking. Perhaps she would one day relay the whole sordid affair to Josephine, but for now the memories cause too much pain. “I am afraid that is a story for another time, as well.”

“Then we understand one another,” Josephine said. She set aside her washcloth and dunked her head under the water, surfacing with a gasp as she flung her slick, dark hair backward and smoothed the excess water out with her hands.

Josephine stood up and Cassandra quickly averted her gaze. She did not think Josephine wanted her staring  _ there _ with an eye-level view.  _ Maker, how does she get it so smooth? _

Josephine laughed and Cassandra heard the soft smack of bare feet against the tile. “Your manners are impeccable. Must be why Varric hired you.”

His exact words had been,  _ “You’ve had a real shitter of a time, kid. Why not come work for me while you get your head on straight?” _ Cassandra settled for nodding in agreement instead.

She heard the rustling of fabric and pretended to be busy with washing herself. “Alright. I am decent now.”

If she were more disciplined, Cassandra would have kept watching the far wall, but she could not stop herself from turning to look behind herself at Josephine. She stood in the plain white shift. It ended scantily high up on her thighs, and the thin fabric did little to hide the stiff points of her breasts. Her hair was wrapped up in the yellow towel, and even without her makeup and gems she positively  _ glowed _ as she stood there smiling. Cassandra felt her mouth go dry. “I...Is there something you need?” she asked, because her brain refused to function and there simply  _ had _ to be some reason Josephine was still standing there, teasing her.

“I was hoping, actually,” Josephine said, crossing back over to the bath and kneeling down next to Cassandra, “if you’re available around noon, I need an escort to the tailor.”

“The...tailor?” Cassandra asked. Her tongue felt thick, her mind slow. This was the longest she had ever spent alone with one of the whores, and she liked to imagine she would think more clearly if Josephine were not looming over her, breasts dangling in the shift and threatening to tumble out.

“Yes, for a ballgown.”

“I…”  _ Do I have any other duties at noon? _ “Yes, I can do that.”

Josephine reached a hand out and cupped her cheek. Cassandra felt a shudder run through her core as she traced her thumb along the jagged scar there. She leaned in closer and pressed her lips to Cassandra’s forehead briefly, then whispered,  _ “Gracias.” _

Josephine left the bath, but Cassandra remained unmoving for several minutes. Her whole body thrummed with the same frustration she felt after reading one of her romance novels. Normally, she would quickly solve this problem, but that somehow felt like playing into what Josephine Maker-Be-Damned-And-Damn-Her-Perfect-Tits “Lady” Montilyet wanted. And more than she wanted to get off she did not want to give Josephine that particular satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm obsessed, absolutely obsessed, with writing this fic. Let me know what you think! Also, where do you guys see this going / what would you want to see?
> 
> Notes: Magic is greatly reduced in this version of Thedas. Certain fantastical creatures (such as dragons) still exist, but mages and magic have been diminished to make room for some adjusted backstories / professions in the other characters. Think of it as an AU slightly adjacent to canon Thedas.


	3. Chapter 3

“Josie, you’re so bad,” Isabela cooed after she heard about the rendezvous in the bath.

Josephine smirked and straightened her clothes in the mirror. The deep yellow dress was more for public appearances and, had she been working, would have been a nightmare to remove with all its ties and frills. Her hair was done up without its usual adornments and she wore far less jewelry than she normally would. “I told you I had a plan.”

“You are going to make her combust, Josephine,” Zevran said, glancing up from a book that lay open in his lap. He lounged in a deep red armchair behind them. The dressing room had long since become the storage room for their extra plush furniture that had garnered one too many stains to be of use elsewhere. He currently perused a volume of antivan poetry judging by what script she could glimpse. He brought a finger to the corner of a page and turned it with ease. Like her, Zevran had darker skin that was common to antiva, but his hair was nearly as blonde as Anders. Josephine would have sworn he bleached it with lemon juice but she had seen that the carpet matched the tapestries.

“That’s the idea.” She picked out a pair of delicate gold earrings set with amethysts and fixed them to her earlobes.

“So how does she look without all that armor covering her up?” Isabela asked. In the mirror’s reflection, Josephine could see Zevran glance up from the book again and lean forward with interest.

“She’s a brute in the best possible sense.” Josephine could not help grinning widely at the memory. “Maker, she has muscles. It’s as if she were cut from marble. And scars, so many scars. She must have been a soldier before this.”

“She did say she slayed a dragon,” Isabela reminded her.

Josephine groaned. “I forgot. How could I? She’s the very image of some roguish warrior.” She thought of how Cassandra’s arms had looked when she washed them, muscle rippling just under the skin, bunching together with each subtle movement. She thought of how easily Cassandra could pin her to a wall if she felt like it. Josephine would cling to that impressive back and whisper antivan nothings while Cassandra kissed her neck, and then Cassandra would hike up her skirt, rough hands pushing her thighs apart and-

“Josie!” Isabela shouted.

She inhaled sharply as the fantasy vanished. “Hm?”

Isabela arched her brow. “Zevran and I were asking when you’re leaving for Dorian’s. Where  _ were _ you?”

Josephine’s cheeks felt hot and she shook her head. “Just thinking, sorry.” She took a deep breath to steady herself and then snatched her purse up off the vanity. “We had an appointment after noon, so I should be going.”

“And who is escorting you?” Zevran asked. “Fenris mentioned he had the afternoon free.”

Josephine shouldered her purse and turned to leave. “Well, who else is there?”

Isabela gasped. “No. Dorian will eat that poor woman alive.”

“Better her than Fenris,” Zevran said, lifting the book of poems to cover his widening grin. “Well played, Montilyet.”

Cassandra waited in the hallway wearing her usual ensemble of armor and longsword strapped to her belt. She nodded when Josephine walked over to her. “Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine smiled and curtseyed. “Cassandra. Thank you again for escorting me.” She looped her arm through Cassandra’s, allowing her fingers to settle on the firm muscle of her biceps lingering just under the tunic’s sleeve. Cassandra’s cheeks colored, something Josephine realized she greatly enjoyed causing.

“It is my job,” Cassandra replied stiffly.

Josephine laughed and tugged her toward the exit. “Oh, Dorian is going to love you.”

~*~

Dorian was the  _ Fleur de Vin’s  _ private tailor, Cassandra discovered. Which made sense, considering Josephine had asked her to be an escort to the tailor’s shop. He was, if Cassandra had to describe him briefly, perfectly manicured. He wore the latest orlesian fashion in men’s clothes: shining black leather shoes, deep blue pants, and a matching blue jacket embroidered with gold trim that carried all the way through his coattails. He had an elegantly waxed moustache and delicate triangle of beard under his lip. His hair was unlike anything Cassandra had seen in Val Royeaux, but it simply looked fashionable with the short sides and high, coiffed top. He was the very image of immaculate grace.

After this first impression, Cassandra never expected Dorian to be so  _ loud _ .

“Lady Montilyet!” he cried when they entered the shop. Josephine let go of her arm and stepped forward to give him a hug. “My dear, you look simply ravishing,” he continued, then pulled away to examine her at arm’s length, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. “Stunning, but unfortunately it went out of style last week. We’ll have to burn it.” He pinched the ruff of one of her sleeves between a thumb and forefinger. “Such a shame, but that is the price of beauty.”

Josephine laughed and brought her hands up to his, carefully prying them from her shoulders and clasping them together. “Dorian, you are too kind, but I am only here for the ballgown. I cannot afford to replace your fine dresses at the whims of the orlesian court.”

“Oh gracious, this is one of mine!” Dorian took a step back and slapped his hands together. “Not to worry. I’ll send you home in something fresh. Avant garde. On the house.”

Josephine gasped and held her hand to her chest. “Monsieur, you are too generous.”

“Josie, my dear, you are the best advertisement a tailor could ask for. I should pay you to wear my new designs.”

“You flatterer.”

Dorian flashed her a smile and took her free hand in his, raising it to his lips and kissing the tops of her knuckles. He added a compliment in Orlesian and Josephine giggled. Cassandra immediately decided she did not like him very much. Dorian dropped her hand and finally saw Cassandra. His eyes widened and he smoothed down the front of his jacket. “And who is this fine brute that you have dragged into my establishment?”

“Ugh.” Cassandra took a step back.

“This is the new guard Varric hired,” Josephine said, quickly stepping between the two of them. “Her name is Cassandra, and she has been a wonderful addition.”

Dorian brought a hand to his chin and stroked it, humming thoughtfully as he looked Cassandra over. “Yes, well. I can see why he brought you on. You seem like you’d be useful for crushing people.”

“Oh, stop.” Josephine touched his arm. “The others already tease her mercilessly.”

“You simply must tell me how they are doing,” he said, and offered her his arm. They walked further into the shop. Cassandra hesitated, looking around at the circular entryway. The shop sat on a street corner, and every inch of the walls were covered with clothes hanging for people to pry down and try on. It looked like an oversized Orlesian closet.  _ A really oversized closet _ . Cassandra stepped further into the room, noticed a register sitting on a counter tucked into the side of the store. Heaps of clothing lay piled on top of it. Cassandra turned toward the sound of Josephine and Dorian chatting and walked down a narrow corridor into a fitting room.

“-and I’m certain Zevran is bedding him,” Josephine was saying. Cassandra stared in shock as Dorian grabbed the hem of her dress and shucked it up, ducking his head underneath.

“I - I’ll just-” She backed up and knocked into a coat stand.

“Oh, there you are!” Josephine lifted her arms up and Dorian stood, taking the the dress with him and pulling it over her head in a quick sweep. He tossed it aside, letting it pool on the floor next to them.

“There,” Dorian huffed and smoothed down the wrinkles in his coat. “Easy enough to get out of once you loosen the laces.” He whipped a rolled up spool of measuring cloth out of his pocket and unfurled it, holding the strip up. Josephine obediently stretched out her arm, standing in her lacy yellow chemise and matching bloomers.

“Oh.” Cassandra felt her face heat up. “You were just-”

Dorian chuckled and moved to measure Josephine’s other arm. “Believe me, my dear, there is nothing that Lady Montilyet keeps under her skirts that  _ I _ find of interest.” He glanced at the string and nodded. “Good. Your arms are still the same length they were last time.” He stepped away and began pulling unfinished dresses out of a nearby closet, tossing them at Josephine’s feet.

“Speaking of interesting things under skirts,” Josephine said with a mischievous glance her way. Cassandra felt the heat in her cheeks extend up to the tips of her ears. “Dorian, how is your gentleman caller?”

“The Iron Bull? Away on business, unfortunately. And I was so looking forward to taking him to Celene’s ball. I tell you, he orchestrated this. A mudslide in the Anderfells at this time of the year, and his company just  _ had _ to dig the refugees out of the road and offer to rebuild the collapsed town. Honestly, these natural disasters have no sense of timing.” Though his words sounded calloused, Cassandra spotted a wily grin on his face as he withdrew from the closet. “I couldn’t be more proud of him.” He plucked up a pin cushion in the shape of the Most Holy’s hat, something Cassandra just  _ knew _ was sacrilegious according to the chant somewhere.

“I’ll miss him,” Josephine said. “Celene’s parties always need more scandal.”

Dorian chuckled as he crossed the room and handed Josephine the pin cushion. “I know, that’s why I’m inviting Anders.”

Josephine gasped. “No!”

Dorian nodded and bent down, picking up a plain red gown. “Believe it.” He held it up to Josephine and squinted, then turned to Cassandra. “What do you think?” he asked. 

“I, uh…” Cassandra’s mind went blank.

“No, of course. Red isn’t your color, darling.” Dorian tossed the dress aside before Cassandra could form a cohesive thought. “What does Blackwall prefer you in?”

“Oh, you know him.” Josephine waved a hand. This was the first time Cassandra had ever heard of a  _ Blackwall _ . She stood up a little straighter. “Something bright, otherwise his beard will dominate the whole ensemble.” They both laughed at whatever was apparently  _ hilarious _ about this Blackwall’s beard.

Cassandra crossed her arms and tried to tune out their gossip as Dorian worked. It wasn’t that this mysterious  _ Blackwall  _ had unnerved her. No, of course not. Josephine was a whore at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , after all. Certainly some disgusting nobleman had paid good coin to have her on his arm at Empress Celene’s ball. 

~*~

By the time Dorian let her leave, he had bedecked Josephine in an entirely new dress, this one colored in layers of dark gold and creme. “To match your jewelry,” he had said. Dorian also arranged to have her ballgown delivered to the  _ Fleur de Vin _ once he finished the final adornments, and it would definitely arrive before the end of next week, and she would definitely steal everyone’s breath away at the ball. He wanted her to  _ sparkle. _

Josephine took Cassandra’s arm once again as they departed the shop. She had been decidedly more taciturn than usual, so instead of returning home, she dragged Cassandra down one of the more colorful alleyways of Val Royeaux’s pleasure district. “W-where are you taking us?” Cassandra asked. She tugged on her arm, but Josephine kept a tight grip on it.

“I want to purchase something,” she said, scanning different stalls for the particular vendor she had in mind. “Ah, here.” She steered them over to a cart covered by a red umbrella, practically dragging Cassandra the entire way. An old man sold boxes of bon bons there, the best Orlesian bon bons Josephine ever had. She fished the right amount of coins from her purse and paid the man for a small box of assorted flavors. “Come, let’s sit.” She nodded at a row of messy, rickety tables and chairs assembled along the side of the alley. The overhanging afternoon sun partially illuminated their peeling paint and cracked surfaces.

Cassandra still dragged her feet. “Are you sure this is necessary, Lady Montilyet?”

Josephine finally let go of her arm and rounded on her. “If you are so miserable, then return to the  _ Fleur de Vin  _ without me.”

Cassandra took a step back, eyes widening. “That was not my intention. I just...did not realize this was what you preferred to do with your time.”

That was not what Cassandra had been thinking. Josephine could tell when she was lying, thanks to the incessant teasing everyone had heaped on her. Her mouth would always twitch a funny way. Instead of pressing the matter, Josephine walked over to the nearest rickety chair and took a seat. Cassandra followed and sat down in a chair opposite her with an audible  _ thud _ . She had crossed her arms again, and her scowl was deeper than before. Josephine undid the bow on the box of bon bons and lifted off the lid. She picked one out and extended it to Cassandra. “Here.”

Cassandra frowned down at the chocolate for several seconds, then finally plucked it from Josephine’s fingers and took a rather undignified bite out of it. As she chewed, Josephine watched the wrinkles in her brow smooth. She swallowed and put the rest of the bon bon in her mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “It is very good,” she said, using the same tone someone might when assessing the quality of indoor plumbing or something else utterly dull.

Josephine smiled and took a small bite out of a bon bon. The chocolate practically melted on her tongue. She moaned and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. When she opened her eyes, she caught sight of Cassandra watching her. “It is more than good. It is orgasmic.” This earned her another blush from Cassandra. Josephine laughed and took another bite out of the bon bon. She pushed the box between the two of them and Cassandra pulled out another one.

“Who is Blackwall?” she asked suddenly, then took a bite out of her bon bon.

_ Oh, she’s jealous is she? I can work with that _ . Josephine shrugged and ate the rest of her bon bon before answering. She noted the way Cassandra’s jaw clenched tighter and tighter as she delayed. “A client. He enjoys my company, has money, and is not entirely unbearable.” Josephine watched her work her jaw loose enough to talk, and had to press the back of her hand to her mouth to conceal a smile.

“And he is taking you to this ball?”

“He is.” Josephine fished another bon bon out of the box. “I usually accompany him to parties where it is expected for one to bring a companion.” She took another bite of bon bon. Cassandra no longer looked surly, but Josephine could see that she was thinking through the whole arrangement.

“And the other nobles, even Empress Celene, allow him to bring...a whore? Surely they must know your profession by now.” Cassandra looked wary, but Josephine could not take offense. She could not have been in orlais for very long if this was her first concern.

“They all know, of course. But the  _ Fleur de Vin _ is not just some run down whorehouse. It  _ is _ a whorehouse, make no mistake, but it is also the finest one in all of Thedas. There is value in being the finest of something. Varric knows this. He plays it up. The  _ Fleur de Vin _ is a luxury, an experience that every wealthy person simply  _ must  _ try at least once, and if you’re wealthy enough to experience it more than once, that gives you status.” She punctuated the end of the sentence with a stab of her hand, gesturing at Cassandra with the bon bon.

“That’s bullshit,” Cassandra said, her face wrinkling up as it often did when she found something distasteful.

Josephine nodded. “Of course it is. But the power structure is there, nonetheless, and telling the orlesians that it is bullshit will get you nowhere. Beat them at their own game instead. Take them for all they’re worth and raise up the downtrodden in the process.” Her heart was beating faster. Her face flushed. It was Varric’s savage cunning and business practices that had convinced Josephine to work for him in the end. He saw a world heaped in cruelties and inequalities, and he wanted to change it all, one topsy-turvy scheme at a time. And his schemes worked. Sighing, Josephine finished off her bon bon and replaced the lid on the box, tying it shut. After she swallowed, she asked, “Are you ready to go back?”

Cassandra had been quietly sitting, watching her. Josephine could not quite determine with what emotion, but she was no longer sulking at least. Cassandra raised her brow and sat forward in her seat. “I suppose so, yes.”

Josephine smiled as she stood up, and this time Cassandra offered her arm to her. Josephine took it and allowed Cassandra to lead her out of the alley. She squeezed Cassandra’s arm and briefly rested her head against her shoulder. “Thank you for stopping with me. Those bon bons are a rare treat.”

“Of course.” They walked slowly, meandering between other shoppers on the street. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. I am still...getting used to this.”

Josephine nodded. Curiosity prickled at her, so she asked, “How so?”

She heard Cassandra release a long sigh. “Before working for Varric, my life was very...regimented. I was given a task and I would do it, no deviation from the path was acceptable.”

_ Definitely was a soldier _ . “Well, it can take time to adjust.” Being a soldier would certainly explain some of the more thorny aspects of Cassandra’s personality. “I know things are hectic with us.” Cassandra snorted in a way that suggested this was an understatement, but when Josephine glanced over, she saw a smile tugging at her lips. “But I think there is pleasure to be found at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , more than the obvious culprit.”

Cassandra finally laughed and Josephine smiled.

_ What a beautiful sound that is. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how freaking invested I am in this story?
> 
> *warning: updates miiiiight slow down a tad with the school semester starting. But your comments and kudos always inspire me to keep going :) I love sharing in the emotional turmoil my writing causes.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days after taking Josephine to the tailor, she joined Cassandra in the bath again. Except this time she arrived after Cassandra had already settled in. The door creaked open and Cassandra glanced over to see Josephine stepping in and closing the door once more. She had her fluffy towel folded under an arm. Her hair was down, slightly tousled, but still somehow elegant. And, of course, she wore a startlingly short shift.

Cassandra watched her step over to the bench and place her towel down next to Cassandra’s clothes. “Good morning,” she called over.

“Good morning.” Cassandra stared as Josephine tugged the shift up, over her head, and placed it on top of the towel. Where she would have normally looked away, she finally allowed herself to take in the sight of Josephine’s naked body. She had been curious, and it seemed counterintuitive to discipline herself when Josephine had made it very clear she had no problem with Cassandra _looking_ at her.

Her gaze followed the elegant curve of Josephine’s body, starting at the collarbone and sloping over her breasts, down the smooth plane of her stomach to wide hips. She watched every step her shapely legs took over to the edge of the bath, then finally looked back up at her face. Josephine’s lips had curved into a knowing smirk. She stepped down into the bath and sat down with a soft groan. “Oh, the hot water always feels so good,” she sighed.

Cassandra nodded in agreement. She felt as though an odd sort of truce had grown between them since their walk back from the tailor. Josephine had not teased her nearly as much in the last two days, and they were almost able to hold normal conversation like they were...friends.

“I hope you don’t mind me intruding.”

“No, not at all.” A few days ago, Cassandra might have jumped at the chance to protect her privacy. “I do not think of it as intruding,” she added.

Josephine smiled and sunk into the water so it covered her chest. “Good.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Cassandra took the opportunity to study her even further. Most of the time, Josephine was bedecked in glittering gems and makeup. Despite wearing so few clothes she was always completely covered up. Now, however, Cassandra allowed herself to observe the contours of Josephine’s face without any extra powdering or blush. She had a surprising amount of freckles, sun-kissed dappling that scattered across her jawline, neck, and shoulders.

_I wonder if Blackwall likes to just count them while they lay in bed together._ She imagined a hand stretching out, gently pressing fingertips one by one to her markings while she lay naked, entangled in cool sheets… The thought startled Cassandra. Her foot slipped forward and touched Josephine’s. She quickly jerked it back, but Josephine giggled anyways.

“I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“I - I just-” Her throat felt tight with embarrassment. “I don’t want you to think I am...taking liberties with you.”

Josephine opened her eyes and sat up. She fixed Cassandra with a very stern stare. “Cassandra, I know you would never do such a thing. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know,” Cassandra replied, but her voice sounded weak in her ears. She stood up and got out of the bath. “I have a meeting with Fenris. Excuse me.”

She dried off and got dressed in a hurry, keeping her gaze turned away from Josephine as best as possible. When she turned to leave, she caught a brief glimpse of her face, brows pulled together in concern and leaning forward in the water like she made to ask Cassandra what was bothering her. She left before Josephine could speak.

Fenris waited for her in the kitchen. It was the only out-of-the-way place that was not their private rooms. Well, aside from when meal prep was underway. The head chefs (and only chefs, but they insisted on the titles) were a wiry young elf with sandy blonde hair named Sera and a dwarf with auburn hair and full red lips named Dagna that Sera always called “widdle”. More than once, Cassandra had walked in on them kissing furiously on top of a half-finished confection.

Thankfully, Fenris and his dour presence seemed to have discouraged such behavior for the morning. Instead the two of them stood at the far end of the counter, scribbling on the same scrap of paper and speaking in hushed voices. Judging by the giggles, it was no less innocent than fucking on the kitchen counters.

Fenris looked up at her from where he sat, arms crossed, at the spare table. “You’re wet,” he grunted.

“That’s what I said!” Sera shouted, causing Dagna to laugh so hard she snorted.

“Ugh.” Cassandra rolled her eyes and sat down across from him. “I was taking a bath.”

Fenris grunted again and waited for the laughter to die down. “Empress Celene is hosting a ball next week, as I’m sure Lady Montilyet has informed you.”

“Yes. I escorted her to the tailor’s for a ballgown.” She tried to block out the memory of their idle chatter involving Blackwall.

“So you met the vint,” Fenris sneered. A far-off look crossed his face, his green eyes momentarily unfocusing. “Hm. It’s good you know him, then, since he’s taking Anders to the same party. Varric has asked that we attend as security now that two of his employees are going into the fray.”

“He _what_ ?” _You mean I have to come along and watch some aristocrat parade her around the Orlesian elite?_ And it was more than having to watch Josephine... _work_ , though the thought alone made her skin crawl for reasons she did not want to examine. No, what had to be more troubling was the idea of being thrown back into high society, having to walk around and pretend nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened to her, that people would not recognize her and peer down their upturned noses and question why she had dared to come within arm’s length of them.

Fenris shrugged. “It’s not how I would prefer to spend my evening either, but Varric would not make us go unless he thought it was important. Orlesian parties can be dangerous depending on who is trying to backstab who in high society.”

“And Varric…”

“Will be there, too. He’s going stag, though, so he insists he’ll be able to take care of himself. He just...doesn’t trust that his people will be left alone.” Fenris spoke about the whole thing like it was some weary explanation for a father’s nervous fretting.

“Is there an actual threat?” If she could get away with it, perhaps she could sulk in the back like she did during the floor shows.

Fenris shrugged. “There could be. If there’s someone Varric wants us to look out for, he’ll let us know. It might be as petty as someone writing him vague threats over the outcome of his latest novel.” He paused, drummed his fingers on the table. “Anyways, you should just stay within sight of one of the two whores at all times. Both would be preferable if you can manage it. Varric might ask you to go check on something. Listen to his instructions. We’re being given royal guard uniforms, so don’t do anything that would be too embarrassing to Her Majesty.”

“Maker help me,” Cassandra sighed. She put her face in her hands and rubbed her temple.

“Maker help us all,” Fenris agreed. He stood from the table. “I need a drink.”

If every part of her seeker training did not scream at her about the impropriety of it all, Cassandra might have joined him.

~*~

Four days before the ball, a courier arrived with a package for Josephine. Normally, she did not receive her own mail, but she was informed by Varric they had asked for her by name. So she rose from the throne, excused herself as she stepped over everyone, and walked to the main entrance.

A man stood waiting for her, tall and broad shouldered with hair as black as the void, long and course, and tied back in a tail now fashionable with the Orlesian court. He smiled, a gesture obscured by his large beard, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. “My lady,” he said, holding up a large box.

Josephine fixed her most charming smile to her lips. “Lord Blackwall, what a pleasant surprise.” She stepped forward and touched the lid of the large box. “What is this?”

Blackwall shrugged and looked at his feet. She quickly looked him over, noticing he wore his tabard and greaves, gauntlets tucked under an arm, and sword strapped to his side. He was on duty. “There was a scuffle between one of my men and and a shopkeeper in the area.” A bright blush rose on his cheeks. “Captain Aveline asked me to come retrieve him. Damn boy is losing his week’s pay for it.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Anyways, when the whole mess was concluded, I realized Dorian had asked me to stop by so he could...match cufflinks. Something about my eye color.”

“Of course.” Josephine giggled and he shrugged. She had always found his stoic shyness charming. It...reminded her of Cassandra.

“Anyways. He mentioned your dress was finished and I offered to bring it by.” He thrust the box forward.

“Oh, you’re so kind.” Josephine reached up and pet the side of his rough cheek. She leaned in on tiptoe and pressed her lips to the coarse hairs. She caught the scent of smoke and dirt lingering on his tabard. “Thank you.” When she pulled away, he was blushing again.

“Hm. Yes, well…”

Josephine took the box from him and waited. Sometimes he needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I finished a few projects.” He reached down to his belt and untied a small pouch from it. “Would you mind giving them to the others?” Blackwall spent much of his patrol hours whittling, Josephine had discovered. He would sit atop horseback and carefully pare down a block of wood into the most intricate carving. Once he knew that Josephine and the other whores delighted in his craftsmanship, he began making small tokens for them.

“Oh, come back and hand them out yourself. I’ll change into the gown while you all talk and we can make sure it does not need to be returned to Dorian.” She made the offer before remembering that Cassandra was on watch. But it was out there, and if Cassandra got too jealous, then that was just more information to work with moving forward.

Blackwall smiled. “I think I would like that very much.” He bowed and gestured with an arm for her to lead the way.

~*~

Cassandra knew that she would inevitably meet Blackwall. She just thought it would be the day of Empress Celene’s ball rather than than some random afternoon at the _Fleur de Vin_. And she did not expect him to be so cordial.

“Blackwall!” Isabela cried out when he entered the room, throwing her arms up in the air.

Cassandra turned and stared wide-eyed at the man. Tall, broad-shouldered, large and intimidating beard. He looked nothing like one of the pasty, soft aristocrats of Orlais. And he was a soldier, a captain in the Orlesian royal army according to the emblem on his pauldrons.

Blackwall chuckled and strode over to the whores. “Isabela, dove. How are you?”

She scrambled up from the cushions and leapt on him, wrapping her arms around his great, big shoulders in a tight hug. Cassandra huffed. “Better now that you’re here to liven up things.” She let go and took a step back.

Blackwall smiled and turned to where Leliana lounged. “My lady,” he said with a nod.

“Monsieur.” Leliana extended a hand and he took it, bending low to kiss her knuckles.

Next to her, both Zevran and Anders extended their hands. Anders even cleared his throat expectantly. Blackwall chuckled and kissed each of their hands in turn. “Gentlemen.”

“Charmer,” Anders teased.

Zevran straightened in his seat and asked, “Were you the courier for Josephine?”

“Yes. Brought her Dorian’s ballgown. She said she wanted to try it on right away.” He looked absolutely jovial, a downright pleasant, down-to-earth man with his rugged, deep voice and chivalric mannerisms.

Cassandra _hated_ it.

“Oh, and I have presents for all of you,” he added. Isabela screamed with delight. Cassandra clenched her jaw tightly. Blackwall held up a small leather pouch and tugged open the sides. He reached a grizzly-sized hand in and fumbled for a moment. “Just a moment, Isabela. I know yours is here somewhere,” he muttered. “Damn stubby fingers.” He withdrew his hand with his fingers carefully enclosed around something small. Isabela cupped her palms and extended them. “There you go.” He dropped a small wooden carving into her hand.

Isabela gasped and held it up in the light. “A shark! Oh it’s delightful.”

“I plan to carve you a whole aquarium eventually.”

_Oh, of course he carves them himself_.

Isabela stood on tiptoe and gave him a loud, wet kiss on the cheek. “It’s perfect.”

His cheeks were red. He reached a hand up and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, glad to know.” He cleared his throat and turned to the others, reaching a hand back into the bag. “Ah, this feels like yours, Zevran.”

“Not the first time someone has said that to me,” the elf replied coolly.

Everyone chuckled and Blackwall handed him a figurine. “An Antivan stallion for the _Fleur de Vin’s_ own stallion.”

Zevran grinned and glanced over at Anders. “He _is_ a charmer.”

Blackwall reached into the bag again and withdrew another small wooden token. He squinted at it. “Ah. A tiger for Anders. Can’t imagine where I got the idea.” He shot a glance at Isabela and she laughed. “And a nightingale for our songbird.” He dropped the delicately carved bird into Leliana’s hand.

“ _Merci_ ,” she said, inspecting the bird closely.

Blackwall nodded, then glanced around the room. “Erm, has anyone seen Sera and Dagna?”

“I’ll go fetch one of them,” Isabela said, then strode off to the kitchens.

“Thank you,” Blackwall called. He sighed, still holding the leather pouch with one hand, his other hand fiddling with the drawstrings. His gaze wandered, and he arched his brow when he caught sight of Cassandra. He smiled. “Hullo. I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance.” He stuck out his hand and Cassandra worked her arms free from their tightly folded position across her chest. She grasped his hand, noting the rough calluses on his palm. He had worker’s hands, damn him. “The name’s Blackwall. Just Blackwall, if you don’t mind. I’m not one for titles.”

“Cassandra,” she replied curtly, giving his hand a firm shake before letting go.

He nodded, then asked, “So, you’re a new guard?”

“Yes.” The most irritating thing about this man was that Cassandra felt positively guilty for not wanting to like him. She had no reason to dislike him. He was just enamored with Josephine. Many people were. They paid her to share her affections with them. It was her _job_.

_But none of her other clients visit with gifts for everyone. None of her other clients escort her to grand balls. None of her clients are this charming, this perfect._ The question remaining at the end of her rationale unsettled her. _So why should I even care?_

“Aha, well…” His gaze turned down, almost as if he expected to find more to speak about on the floorboards.

Thankfully, Isabela returned with Sera, saving them from the need to carry on their conversation further. “Wally, catch!” Sera shouted, then tossed something at him.

He flinched, but raised his hand and managed to snatch whatever it was Sera had flung at him. “What is it?” he asked, looking down at the lump.

“It’s a cookie. New recipe.” Sera walked over to him, hands shoved in her apron pockets. “Tell me if it’s shite or not.”

Blackwall bit into it and chewed. He nodded and held the cookie up. “Delicious, my dear. What are you going to call it?”

“The Bee’s Knees, on account of it’s got honey in it.” Both Sera and Blackwall laughed and Cassandra felt her jaw tightening again.

Blackwall polished off the cookie. “Simply wonderful. Oh, and I’ve got something for you.” He reached into the bag and pulled out another carving. “You mentioned trying to keep bees, so here.” He handed it over and Sera squealed with delight.

“Aw, it’s a big bumblebee and a little one! Just like me and Dagna.”

Blackwall chuckled. “That’s the idea.”

Cassandra couldn’t stand to watch them. It was all. Just. So. _Disgustingly_. Sweet.

“Ahem.” Someone had cleared their throat from across the room. Cassandra turned and looked along with everyone else.

Josephine stood in the entryway wearing her ballgown. Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat. She looked stunning, there was no other word. The dress, a bright and deep blue that edged on the hue of twilight, made her look ethereal and divine, or perhaps that was Josephine all on her own, and the dress was just an accessory to her radiance. The fabric had glittering adornments, glass beads strung throughout the fabric that sparkled just like Dorian had promised. The low neckline showed off her beautiful skin and sloped shoulders, the sleeves cuffs that clung to her arms. She wore silver-tinged gloves, a delicate silver necklace, and silver earrings set with sapphires.

“Maker’s breath,” Blackwall whispered, then took a step toward her. “You’re beautiful.”

Cassandra wanted to tell her the same, but her throat felt tight with emotion.

Josephine laughed and looked down, folding her hands in front of herself. “Thank you.”

Blackwall crossed the room and stood in front of her, staring with rapt attention. He reached a hand out like he wanted to touch her, but he hesitated and dropped it to his side. “Shall I tell Dorian you are satisfied with his work?”

“Please.” Josephine looked back up. Her gaze searched the room until it fell on Cassandra’s. She stared, a small smile clinging to her lips.

Cassandra stared back.

“I’ll tell him on my way back to the post,” Blackwall said.

Josephine looked back at him. “Of course. Thank you.” She offered him her hand and he kissed it.

Blackwall spared one more glance back up at her as he straightened. “No, thank you, my lady.” He turned and walked out of the room, footsteps creaking as he took the hall back to the entrance.

Josephine watched him go for a moment, but turned back, her eyes finding Cassandra’s again.

Cassandra felt a pressure building, rising in her chest and threatening to creep up her throat, out her eyes. She blinked twice and then glanced down at the floor. _Maker, please just let her leave. Please allow me to not make a fool of myself._

She heard footsteps again and looked up. Josephine had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this one is pretty good, guys. Tell me what you think of the latest character :D
> 
> Also, the Orlesian ball is next chapter. Thoughts? Hopes? Predictions???


	5. Chapter 5

The day of the ball was utter chaos as far as Cassandra was concerned. Though not all of the  _ Fleur de Vin’s  _ employees would be in attendance, enough were going to cause a stir. Varric, for one, scuttled about with unease, fussing over every detail of anything he could manage.

He barreled into the kitchen half-dressed with a wardrobe assistant trailing after him. Cassandra pulled her plate of food away, lest he scold her for snacking and not getting ready.

Cassandra watched as Dagna grimaced at the chaos descending into her ream. The other dwarf walked over to him, put a hand on her hip, and sighed. “Varric, I know you’ve got something big going on, but can’t you leave the rest of us in peace?”

Varric groaned and shook his head. He was still shuffling around with unlaced trousers and an open dress shirt. “Where do you think the disaffected nobles are going to come after they grow weary of the ball? We need to be on top of the game tonight, and that means no food fights, Sera.” He pointed threateningly at the elf.

Sera, sitting atop one of the counters and eating a meat pasty, looked around the rest of the kitchen before pressing a messy finger to her chest. “Who me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Bah. Just give me one of those pies.” He gestured at a plate piled high with meat pasties. Dagna handed one over and he took a bite out of it, chewed, and then swallowed. “Acceptable.” He put the unfinished pasty down and left the kitchen, wardrobe artist trailing after him with an exasperated sigh. “And Cassandra  _ needs _ to get into uniform!” he called from the hallway.

“Ugh.” Cassandra shoved the last of her food in her mouth while Sera and Dagna both laughed at her. She shot them both a glare and then stalked out of the kitchen.

Fenris stood out in the hall, tucked into a corner where he could not trip anyone. He was already in uniform, the armor polished so that it gleamed brightly, tabard wrapped loosely at his hips, his same old broadsword hanging off his back. “Leliana wanted to see you for wardrobe. And she’ll probably want to fix…” He gestured at his own face, and Cassandra realized he was wearing makeup. It was not nearly as much as any of the whores ever wore, but just enough to highlight his cheekbones and accent his green eyes. “All this,” he concluded.

“You can’t be serious,” Cassandra said. When Fenris shrugged, she rolled her eyes and trudged off in search of Leliana.

She did not need to look long. Leliana found her.

A hand reached out from a side passage and tugged her hard. Cassandra yelped and reached for the wrist of her assailant, but she turned and saw Leliana standing there, fiery red hair haloing her face and grinning in a way that suggested she took great pleasure in Cassandra’s panicked response. Cassandra took a deep breath and let go of Leliana’s wrist. “Fenris said I needed to see you for wardrobe?”

Leliana nodded. “This way.” She was ushered into the backstage dressing room used for the floorshow. An array of scandalous costumes hung on racks and lays strewn across vanities, some of which Cassandra had never seen paraded on stage. The room smelled sharply of floral perfumes and talc. Leliana gave her the armor, the tabard, and other adornments and politely turned her back while Cassandra changed into them. With her back turned, she said, “What do you think of Josie?”

Cassandra paused as she was pulling the straps on a greave tightly shut. Something about the seemingly innocent question made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Lady Montilyet is a respectable woman,” she answered diplomatically. Intuition told her that Leliana, the woman with daggers in her smile, did not need to hear about Cassandra’s budding infatuation with the star of the  _ Fleur de Vin _ . She went back to tugging on the uniform.

Leliana hummed. “She is, indeed.”

Cassandra pulled on the tabard and affixed her sword sheath to her belt. “I am decent.”

Leliana turned around and looked her over. Her face betrayed no emotion other than calculating observation. “Sit,” she said, nodding at a nearby chair. Cassandra took a seat in front of a vanity mirror. She saw Leliana walk behind her in their reflection. She looked down at Cassandra, lips pressed together in a thin line. She ran a hand through Cassandra’s messy black hair and tsked, then opened a jar of oil. “Josie and I have known each other for quite some time. Before either of us worked at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , actually.” She carefully dipped the tips of her fingers in the oil and raked her fingers through Cassandra’s hair, combing the rogue locks into order.

“Hm.” Cassandra watched her wipe off her hand with a cloth.

Leliana pulled over the face paint, the powders, the liners. It had been ages since Cassandra had worn the stuff. Leliana started with a brush, slowly coloring her cheeks with careful flicks. “Josie was there for me through the darkest moments of my life, as I was for her.” Leliana moved to the other cheek. “She is a very brave, very strong woman.”

“I can imagine.” Every instinct told her she was in serious danger, but the thought was ridiculous. Leliana switched to her other cheek, coloring it slightly before putting the brush down. She then picked up a blunted stick, dipped it in kohl, and brought the tip under Cassandra’s right eye.  _ Maker help me _ .

“And yet, there are parts of Josephine that are fragile.” Leliana pressed the tip to her skin, drawing carefully underneath the lid. “She is a romantic, you see.” The tip pressed a little harder, almost scratching at her skin with the pressure. Cassandra felt her eye begin to water. The pressure vanished for a moment. “Close your eyelid.” She did so and the pressure returned to the top of her eyelid. Her heart beat as if a sword’s point was pressed at her chest. “Josie dreams of finding love, of meeting someone who sees her for all she is and accepts every exquisite part of her.” Cassandra felt the pressure vanish and she reopened her eye. Leliana crossed around the back of the chair, dipped the stick back in kohl, and crouched down beside her.

“In this profession? How?” Cassandra asked.

The point of the stick was under her left eyelid, pressing down. “She guards that part of her heart well.” Pressure. Dark lines of kohl reflected in the mirror. “While Josie works here, while she is a whore for the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , she needs guard that part of herself. She needs it shielded for when she leaves the brothel and goes on to whatever grand undertaking she has planned next.” Heart clenched. Breath caught in chest. “It would be a grievous mistake if someone were to convince her to  _ lower _ her guard.” Leliana glanced over at the mirror, point still pressing under Cassandra’s eye as their gazes met. “Do I make myself clear?”

Cassandra swallowed. “Perfectly.”

Leliana smiled and removed the point. “Good.”

~*~

Blackwall and Dorian arrived around the same time. They had decided to share a carriage ride over, it seemed. Josephine laughed when they both swept into the entrance of the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , Dorian looking stunning and vibrant, bedecked in bright golden clothes with black accents while Blackwall hung behind him, smiling and modest, but still no less breath-taking. Out of all of the noblemen in Orlais to become enchanted by her, Josephine was glad to have captured Blackwall’s attention. He was attractive, kind, and attentive to her needs. He had been honest with her from the start of their regular engagements with one another. He liked her very much, yes, but they could never go beyond their current arrangement.

Josephine could have seen herself falling in love with him in another lifetime, one where neither of them had been so viciously marred by Orlesian society. Instead, she had found a friend...if a regularly paying client could be considered a friend.

Blackwall wore a black frock coat and black trousers. The coat had been embroidered with gold, and the silk shirt he wore underneath was a deep, matching yellow. The golden buttons shone brightly. His white gloves were spotless, and his slacks neatly creased. Even his shoes shone. And, if Josephine was not mistaken, Dorian had helped him wax the tips of his moustache and beard into fine points.

Josephine smiled at him and he bowed. “Lady Montilyet,” he said, head still lowered. “You honor me with your presence.”

“And you honor me,” she replied, walking over and holding out her hand to him.

Blackwall straightened and took her hand. He was smiling. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

“And where is my date?” Dorian asked, possibly just to remind everyone he was in the room.

“He should be here any second.”

“Or right now,” came a teasing voice.

Josephine turned around and saw Anders leaning against the entryway, one hand reaching high up and clutching the frame while he placed the other on his hip. He wore silvery-grey party clothes with bright blue accents. Josephine had to smile at how her colors and his mirrored each other, much like Blackwall and Dorian did.  _ He planned this _ .

Dorian walked forward, a hand stroking his moustache thoughtfully as he eyed Anders. “Yes, it does look quite good on you.” He took Anders’s chin in his hand and tilted his head from side to side. “And Leliana did wonders with your face.” He stopped and adjusted the jacket collar. “We’ll dazzle them all, what do you say?”

Anders flashed him a big grin. “And dance in the most raunchy, debauched ways possible?”

Dorian laughed loudly and clapped his hands together. “We’ll close out the night kissing all over the hors d'oeuvre table. It’s what Bull wants.”

“You will do no such thing!” came Varric’s sharp cry. He stormed into the entryway, dressed just as finely as the rest of them in a burgundy coat that still managed to reveal a fair amount of his chest. Varric adjusted his sleeves and fixed Anders with a hard stare. “You are to act refined enough so that you don’t get kicked out. Personally, I would like to enjoy the evening.”

Anders arched a brow at him. “Alright, boss. What’s got you all wild?”

“Wild? Aside from the matching pair of ruffles over here,” he nodded at Josephine at Blackwall, “I’m the only one behaving myself.”

Josephine heard the clunking of heavy boots against the floorboards and glanced down the hallway. Fenris and Cassandra had walked out to join them. They both looked menacing enough in the royal guard uniforms, and Leliana’s touch-up to their faces gave them dark, glaring eyes, angular cheekbones. They had been dressed up to look like hardened, serious soldiers, not the untrained bouncers at some brothel. Cassandra, dressed head-to-toe in armor and draped in the royal tabard, golden lion emblazoned on her chest, looked perfectly at home in the uniform. She looked...striking.

Varric glanced over at them. “There you two are. Go ahead with them.”

Anders made an exaggerated frown. “Oh, don’t want to ride with us?”

“I have things to manage. I’ll catch up.” Varric waved at the door. “Now go on. You’re going to arrive so late that it’s not even fashionable anymore.”

The six of them shuffled out the door. An elaborate chaise and four waited for them on the street. Dorian glanced between everyone and rubbed his hands together. “Well, unfortunately our rugged guardsmen will have to ride outside.” He turned and nodded to Cassandra and Fenris. “My deepest apologies.”

Fenris growled. “It’s fine. The air’s fresher.” He stalked over to the carriage and climbed up by the driver.

Josephine turned to Cassandra. She was staring past all of them. “Will you be alright?” she asked.

“Hm?” Cassandra blinked and turned to look at her, eyes refocusing. “Oh, I will be fine, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine smiled and reached a hand up to cup Cassandra’s cheek, the one sporting the long and jagged scar. She found her thumb tracing it automatically. “You look wonderful,” she said, and she meant it. Cassandra wore a uniform like she was born to.  _ What drove you to leave such a calling? _

“Thank you, my lady.” Cassandra held her gaze, and she did not know if was the darkened kohl Leliana had applied or something else, but her stare kindled something in Josephine’s core. She let her hand fall away.

“I shall see you once we arrive?” Josephine asked.

Cassandra nodded, then left to climb atop the rear bench outside the coach. Blackwall cleared his throat and offered her his arm. “Shall we?” he asked.

Josephine stared a moment. She had almost forgotten Blackwall was standing there. Then, she smiled and took his arm. “Of course, monsieur.”

Dorian and Anders piled into the carriage, but Blackwall turned to her and assisted her up. He settled in next to her and the driver shut the door behind him. Dorian and Anders sat across from them, both grinning mischievously. Once the carriage took off, Anders leaned back and sighed. “So what do you all think has Varric’s corset in a clump?”

Josephine pulled herself from thoughts of Cassandra. “It’s possible that Bianca will be there tonight.”

“No!” Dorian gasped.

“Who?” Anders asked at the same time.

“An old flame, if I had to guess. Though the exact nature of their relationship eludes me still.” Josephine had never met Bianca. She had only caught fragments of conversation between Varric and other contacts. She had seen more than one letter be sent away with her name on it, and she remembered Varric only getting this nervous once before. It had been right before a social event much like Celene’s ball, and she had heard someone mention a  _ Bianca _ would be in attendance. “Whoever she is, I don’t think it concerns us. Varric is so boring outside the brothel, anyways.” That was a lie, but she did not want to attract him any further unwanted attention.

Dorian sniffed and recurled the end of his moustache. “It’s just so funny to watch him get flustered about her.”

Josephine nodded. “I think it will be best to leave him be for the evening. Besides, we have a ball to scandalize. He’ll be too distracted to put a stop to your shenanigans.”

Both Dorian and Anders cackled in response. Next to her, Blackwall took her hand and squeezed it. Normally, she found such small touches from him comforting at least, but in that moment they felt no more significant than an idle distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's started. Updates will be a tad bit slower. I'm sorry everyone. I'm really enjoying writing this so much.
> 
> Also, I know I said the ball was next, but these scenes got away from me. What do you think, though? I'm always happy to delight in your anguish over the characters :D That way I know I have company in my own suffering at least.


	6. Chapter 6

“His honorable lordship Captain Blackwall and Lady Josephine Montilyet,” the senechal announced, striking his staff of office against the marble floor. Josephine and Blackwall swept downstairs, following the procession of guests. Behind them the senechal said, “Archon Dorian Pavus and Messere Anders of the  _ Fleur de Vin _ .”

Cassandra watched as people poured down the double-wide staircase like a river of cloth and gemstones. She found Josephine and Blackwall at once. How could she not? They stood out among the crowd so easily, Blackwall leading Josephine to the center of the ballroom, bowing to her, then sweeping her up into his arms as they joined the dance with everyone else. Cassandra watched, mesmerized by the flow of skirts and coattails of bright and clashing colors. Dorian and Anders inserted themselves into the pattern forcefully, disrupting the steps of nearby dancers as they cut their own path to the music.

The song came to an end, and a new one began, stringed instruments trilling along in a lively enough tune. Josephine and Blackwall detached from the other dancers and wandered toward the opposite end of the ballroom, toward a crowd of other attendees. Next to her, Fenris groaned and shook his head. “Do me a favor, and watch the archon and his pet closely.” He nodded at Dorian, who had just swept Anders up into a lift, twirling him about dramatically before lowering him. “I’m going to follow Lady Montilyet.”

“I…Alright.” Cassandra watched him stalk off through the crowd. People parted around him without much issue, a skill she envied. Despite how much she scowled, Cassandra could never quite be as intimidating as him. It was for the better that he had volunteered to watch Josephine for the night. Cassandra had already devised several schemes for keeping her distance. Something about seeing her with Blackwall caused an ache in her chest.  _ Well, it’s not something. You know it’s infatuation _ .

That very fact infuriated her.

_ Leliana won’t have to gouge out my eyes with a kohl stick. I’ll do it myself to get her out of my mind. _

Dorian and Anders dramatically cut through the dancers once more, this time using the steps to a scandalous Antivan dance that Cassandra had only ever seen in venues such as the  _ Fleur de Vin _ . She shook her head and followed after them as they took off toward a refreshment table. They started with the wine.

Cassandra had to admit that it was a refreshing change to be at a ball without any expectations or obligations. She had been dragged to enough of them by her uncle when she was young, stuffed into uncomfortable dress after uncomfortable dress, paraded around like a porcelain doll. Here, she was faceless, a soldier on duty and not to be disturbed. If she could ignore Blackwall and Josephine’s cavorting, it could almost be relaxing.

By the time she edged over to the refreshments, Dorian and Anders had polished off a glass of wine each and had moved onto the food. Anders was eating a peach tart in what  _ had _ to be the most messy way possible on purpose. Dorian chuckled and said, “Oh my, what a  _ dirty _ boy.”

“Ugh.” She was starting to regret Fenris pawning them off on her.

They both turned and saw her. “Hello, soldier,” Dorian said with a dramatic wave. The two of them walked over to her, Anders taking a few more tarts off the plate by hand, ignoring the tongs or any other cutlery, napkins, or plates to assist him in the endeavor.

“Want one?” Anders asked when he saw her eyeing the armful of tarts.

“Of course not,” Cassandra said, recoiling slightly. “What is  _ wrong  _ with you? Varric said not to cause a scene.”

“Varric’s busy, darling,” Dorian said with a twiddle of his moustache. “Meaning we’re going to wreak havoc all over this facade of a party until he shows up to stop us.” He glanced around, smiling at all the guests giving them scandalized looks.

“You’re going to get us thrown out,” Cassandra growled.

“That would be a sight,” Anders said, then shoved a whole tart in his face. 

“Look, you’re from high society somewhere in that tragic backstory, aren’t you?” Dorian asked. Cassandra opened her mouth to reply, but Dorian waved his hand and continued on. “Anyways, you know how gilded these social gatherings are. I am a man that appreciates beauty and grace, but the people here use it like a mask, a second skin to excuse their awful behavior. They show up, dressed in whatever is the latest fashion, exchange a few verbal barbs with their political enemies, and discuss some sort of social reform that is forgotten by the end of the night. At least six people will get into a duel. One of those duels will result in a minor skirmish between noble houses. The commoners working for them will be the ones that suffer.”

In the distance, Cassandra heard the crashing sound of metal hitting the ground, followed by the shattering of ceramic. She winced and turned around, spotting a young elven servant stooping down to start picking up a tray of shattered teacups. Liquid had spilled everywhere. As people looked on, one of the wait staff hurried over and tossed a towel at her. “Clean it up faster, you useless…” The words drowned out in the buzz of the crowd.

“And that will happen several more times over the course of the night,” Dorian said with a nod to the miserable looking servant.

Cassandra sighed and looked at the floor rather than continue watching the elven woman. “You’re right. It’s always like this, and it’s horrible.”

Anders snorted. “All of Orlais is like this.” He offered Cassandra a tart once again with a gesture of his arm. She snatched one up and bit into it spitefully. “Now you’re having fun!” he said with a grin, then turned to Dorian. “What should we ruin next?”

Dorian pressed his lips together and put his hands on his hips. He almost voiced an idea, but someone strode up to them and cleared her throat. Cassandra looked over the slim woman. She had hair dark as pitch and cold blue eyes. She was dressed in a simple periwinkle blue dress. No sleeves, barely enough frills around the skirt. “Archon Pavus?” she asked.

Dorian arched his brows and turned to her. “I...yes?”

Cassandra suspected he was not used to people throwing that title around. The woman smiled and curtseyed at him. “My name is Hadriana. You and I met at a Magister’s social gathering once in Tevinter. It was ages ago, so I forgive you if it has slipped your mind.” The way she spoke suggested that she found it empowering to hold this detail over Dorian rather than acting out of any shred of generosity.

“Yes, forgive me for being slippery on the details.” Dorian extended a hand. She grasped it and shook firmly. “And who are you representing?”

Her smile shrunk slightly. Dorian must have insinuated something. “I am here on behalf of Magister Danarius.”

_ Oh, he called her a pawn. _ Cassandra took another large bite out of her tart.

“And what is it I can do for you?” Dorian asked, his voice holding an edge of weariness. He stood with one arm folded across his chest, hand tucked under an elbow. He held his other hand aloft, quickly twisting the end of his moustache.

Hadriana released a short, probably forced, laugh. “Oh Dorian, I don’t need a reason to introduce myself, do I?”

Instead of replying, Dorian stared expectantly. Anders edged around them to stand next to Cassandra. He offered her another tart and she took it. They watched, both eating without much care for how this looked. Hadriana cast them a look over Dorian’s shoulder, brow furrowed as she no doubt tried to calculate their purpose, standing there. Eating. Menacingly.

“If you must know,” Hadriana continued, “I’m looking for someone, an elven man Danarius was hoping to reconnect with.”

Dorian nodded and hummed. “Have you tried the elven quarter, then?”

Hadriana laughed that dismissive laugh again. “Dorian, I was hoping you might have some idea. Word has it you’re very connected in this city. A traveler from Tevinter...I thought you two might be acquainted somehow.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing. I am connected, and I’m afraid I need something a little more than  _ elven _ to go off of if you expect me to be of any use.”

“His name is Fenris.” Her eyes practically flashed when she said the name. Cassandra looked at her feet because she did not trust her face to betray nothing, and Hadriana did not seem like the person who needed whereabouts on  _ anyone _ working at the  _ Fleur de Vin. _

She listened to Dorian ponder this. “Hm, Fenris.”

“White tattoos. Dark skin,” Hadriana continued.

“I think I’d remember someone by that description, but sadly I don’t.” Dorian paused. “But tell me, why are you looking for him? Come, regale me with your efforts and I’ll see if I can be of any more use.”

Cassandra finally looked up and saw Dorian put a hand on Hadriana’s shoulder, steering her toward the back of the ballroom. “That’s very kind of you,” she said, going with him.

As they walked away, Anders and Cassandra looked at each other. “You don’t think,” he started.

“We have to find them,” Cassandra hissed.

Anders unceremoniously dumped the rest of the tarts back onto the corner of the table and brushed the crumbs off his coat. “Right. Where did they go last?”

~*~

Josephine allowed Blackwall to lead her out onto a balcony after spending enough time socializing with the other party guests. A few other guests lingered there, but they soon filtered out as her and Blackwall lounged against the balcony railing and talked about his last deployment. She enjoyed the stories he weaved about being on the road with his fellow soldiers. He had a way of describing the most ordinary events so that he still held her rapt attention. Even tonight, with thoughts of Cassandra brooding somewhere in Celene’s palace, she could not resist the pull of his stories.

“...and it turned out to be a whole herd of halla. They came thundering through the camp. Completely caught us off guard.” Blackwall chuckled.

Josephine smiled and put a hand on his arm. She knew he liked these small touches. “It sounds like all is quiet on the front, then?”

Blackwall’s smile faded. “I wish it was. Too many skirmishes with untrained farmers still crop up. That damn Gaspard is going to burn the whole-” Blackwall stopped and turned to look over his shoulder at the entrance to the balcony. Josephine looked as well, catching sight of Cassandra and Anders walking as fast as they could past crowds to join them on the relatively empty balcony.

Josephine straightened her posture, her smile pulling into a frown. “What happened?” she asked. Her heart pulled at the sight of Cassandra, brow furrowed and lips pressed tightly together in concern.

“Where’s Fenris?” Anders asked.

Josephine glanced around the balcony, looking for the surly bodyguard. He was so unobtrusive she had forgotten he was watching them. Blackwall’s face relaxed and he pulled on the end of his beard. “Hm. Lost sight of him.” He stepped away from the balcony railing and started looking around.

“I’m over here,” Fenris called, stepping out from a shadowed corner. “Didn’t want to be conspicuous. What do you two want?” He fixed both Cassandra and Anders with a hard stare.

“There’s someone looking for you,” Cassandra said. Josephine watched as Fenris somehow scowled even more, his brows furrowing deep so that deep wrinkles formed over the ridge of his nose.

“And why should I care?” he asked, though Josephine noted a waver in his voice, a crack that usually wasn’t present in the husky drone. His lips curled back in a sneer as if in preparation to deride whoever it might be.

“Some woman,” said Anders. He stepped forward and extended a hand, which Fenris flinched away from. “A Tevinter named Hadriana.”

The scowl vanished from Fenris’s face and his eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

“Positive,” said Anders. “Dorian’s distracting her. We figured you might not want company.”

“I need to leave, now.” Fenris bolted.

“Wait!” Anders shouted, then ran after him.

Blackwall glanced back to Josephine, then looked to Cassandra. “Erm, would you mind keeping the lady company? I know the look of a man about to make a poor decision, and, well…”

“Please, go,” Cassandra said, and he trotted after the others. Cassandra stared at the crowd they had disappeared into beyond the doorway. Josephine waited for Cassandra to look back at her, but she remained still, gaze fixed on the same spot. 

She reached out and placed an arm on Cassandra’s shoulder. She flinched away, eyes refocusing on Josephine. Her cheeks slowly went flush. “I did not mean to startle you.” Josephine took a step back toward the balcony railing. “Have you seen the view?” she asked, gesturing out at the cityscape. “It is something to behold.”

Slowly, Cassandra shook her head and then walked over to the edge. “I have not had the chance, no.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the the balcony railing. One hand fiddled nervously with the frayed edge of her tabard, fingers pinching the fabric together and rubbing. “I had forgotten how these parties felt,” she said, voice barely above a murmur.

Josephine sidled up as close as dared and crossed her forearms on the railing. “You’ve been to parties like these before?”

Cassandra nodded. “When I was a girl, mostly. My uncle dragged me to so many of them. He was furious when I enlisted with the seekers. I was so relieved to be out of his reach.”

The word  _ seeker _ caught her attention. Josephine leaned forward even more. “You were part of the holy order?”

“I was.” Cassandra stared ahead of them, eyes transfixed on some distant part of orlais.

Josephine bit her lip. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to know what Cassandra had done as a seeker, and what she had done to no longer be a seeker. On the other hand, asking further questions would almost assuredly cause her to withdraw. Instead, she focused the conversation elsewhere. “I am sorry your uncle made you feel so uncomfortable.”

Cassandra snorted. “He did. Not by any purposeful malice. He simply wanted me to be something I was not.”

“And what was that?”

“An heir.”

Josephine opened her mouth to ask what Cassandra meant, but the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped her. They both turned. Josephine saw Blackwall’s enormous frame silhouetted in the entrance to the ballroom. “Sorry to disturb you,” he said, stepping forward. “But we can’t find Fenris or the Hadriana lass.”

Dorian walked up behind him, head hung shamefully and hands fiddling with the tassels on the front of his suit. He glanced up at Josephine and heaved a sigh. “I’m so sorry to have failed you all. However, I think we better notify Varric.”

Josephine’s stomach tightened with worry. She looked at Cassandra, who had immediately snapped to attention, any remnants of vulnerability tightly locked away once more. She sighed and nodded, knowing that whatever moment was there was snatched away.


	7. Chapter 7

They all left Celene’s ball in a rush, with Varric muttering apology after apology as he extricated himself from the nobles. Once outside, he had muttered, “Well, shit,” and then waved a palace servant off to fetch the carriage.

Back at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , Zevran was the first one to notice their return. He rose from his spot on the cushions, frowning as they all shuffled in quietly. “Is something wrong?” he asked, eyes darting from person to person. “You’re back so early.”

Varric waved a hand. “Ah, Celene’s balls are all the same. We got bored. Decided to come home to the real party.” He pushed past them and staggered off to the kitchen.

Once he was gone, Zevran turned to Josephine and whispered, “Where is Fenris?”

Cassandra watched her place a hand on Zevran’s shoulder and shake her head. “Nobody knows. He left in a hurry when he heard a tevinter woman was looking for him.”

Dorian hummed in agreement. “Yes, the underling of some magister. Tell me, Zevran, do you know if Fenris ever mentioned a Denarius?”

Zevran’s eyebrows rose. His mouth stopped halfway open. He then cleared his throat. “I know he has no love for tevinter. He does not talk about his past, though.”

Dorian nodded and crossed his arms. “I imagine he wouldn’t. Denarius is as foul as they get.”

“Is he here? In the city?” Zevran asked. There was an urgency to his voice that made Cassandra’s heart pang.

“No. Just his servant. I doubt she’ll find Fenris. She had one connection to him through me, but I can’t imagine anyone else in the city she’d think to talk to that knows him.”

Zevran nodded, though he still seemed tense. “I’ll trust in your wisdom.”

Behind them, Blackwall cleared his throat. “I’ll have the city watch keep an eye out for him. We won’t let harm come to him on our watch.” He glanced to Zevran with a weak smile, then to Josephine. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but since the evening’s spoiled anyway, I ought to inform the guards to be on the lookout.”

Josephine furrowed her brow and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “Are you sure? I could accompany you, or go back to your place and wait. I’d hate for our problems to ruin your night.”

Blackwall took her hand in his. “You are a generous soul, Lady Montilyet, but I think the night’s pleasantries have passed us.” He raised her hand to his lips and gave her a parting kiss. “I’ll make it up to you soon.”

Josephine smiled graciously and Cassandra looked away. “I look forward to it,” she purred.

Blackwall left and the others dispersed. Cassandra stood awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of what to do. Josephine caught sight of her and beckoned with a finger. “Come upstairs with me. I need help getting out of this dress.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to stammer an excuse, but nothing came out. Instead, she obediently followed Josephine up the back stairway and down the hall to the whore’s quarters. Cassandra had never been to Josephine’s room before. She had no idea what to expect. Her own room was small, with a straw bed shoved in one corner and a desk pushed against the opposite wall with a chest of drawers squeezed next to it. Cassandra was barely able to squeeze past the furniture whenever she needed to come or go.

Josephine stopped at a nondescript door and fished a key out from the dip in her dress. She fit it into the lock and pushed open, nodding for Cassandra to follow her inside.

Josephine’s room was not as elegant as she thought it might be. While it certainly had more space than Cassandra’s, the furnishing was simple and few adornments littered the room. Cassandra let her gaze wander until Josephine cleared her throat and gestured for her to step in further. She shut the door behind them and turned so her back was to Cassandra. “I just need you to undo the clasps at the back of the gown. Usually I have one of the others help, but everyone else seems so distracted with the ball and...Fenris.”

Cassandra nodded and allowed her fingers to fumble with the different knots and loops of thread wound around buttons. She undid the delicate fastenings one by one, listening to Josephine’s sigh of relief as the gown’s grip loosened on her. When she finished, she let her hands drop to her sides. “It should be good, now.”

Josephine shrugged the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders, pushing the body down over her hips and letting the fabric pool at her feet. She stepped out of the gown and smoothed the wrinkles out of her silk chemise. “Thank you,” she said, turning to face Cassandra. The chemise fell over the two stiff points of her breasts and stopped just over her thighs. “It can be such a pain to get out of those.”

Cassandra’s throat felt tight again, so she looked somewhere else in the room. “I’m glad I could be of assistance,” she mumbled. Her eyes fell on a writing desk pressed against the far wall. Sheaves of parchment were stacked high next to an inkwell and quill. Lined neatly across the back of the desk was an assortment of small, wooden figurines, at least ten or so, all different animals carved with loving detail. “Did Blackwall make you those?”

“The carvings?” Josephine walked over to the desk and picked up a little halla. “Yes. They’re quite adorable, don’t you think?” She reached out and offered Cassandra the halla.

She picked it up and looked it over quickly, knowing she wasn’t really taking in the details, and then set it back on the desk. “He is a talented craftsman.” Cassandra cleared her throat and took a step back. “If you don’t need anything else, I should go.”

Josephine took hold of her hand before she could retreat, tugging her back. “Hold on, is something wrong?” Her brows had drawn together like they normally did when she was concerned, or annoyed. Cassandra could not tell the difference. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Cassandra felt her face heating up. She looked down, pulling her hand from Josephine’s so that she could anxiously wring her fingers together. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just - it’s my fault, Lady Montilyet.” She felt a hand on her cheek, drawing her gaze from the floor so that she met Josephine’s once more.

“Are you envious of Blackwall?” she asked.

Cassandra’s heart jumped into her throat. She snorted. “I - that is ridiculous! He is a client of yours, and if I wanted your services I need only pay for them. Blackwall is a kind and good man, better than having some terror of a noble abuse your services and I…” As she rambled, Josephine’s lips slowly parted into a grin. The words finally died in her throat and she took a calming breath. “Why are you smiling? Have I made a fool of myself enough, then?”

“Oh Cassandra,” Josephine purred, “you have nothing to be envious of.”

“I - what?”

Instead of answer, Josephine pulled her down into a kiss, one hand tangling into her short hair while the other curved over her shoulder. Cassandra froze for a second, trying to process the feeling of Josephine’s soft lips pressing against hers, the smell of Josephine’s sweet perfume, the heat of her body pressing against Cassandra, the heat that she could still feel through her damnable guard’s uniform.

And then the part of her brain that had been  _ wanting _ this woke up. Her hands, which had been hanging uselessly at her side, moved to draw Josephine in closer, wrapping around the small of her back and holding her tight. Cassandra kissed back as best she knew how, which was not very good, but that same part of her brain firmly tamped down any self-doubt. Josephine moaned softly and nipped at her lower lip, making Cassandra gasp.

It was overwhelming and all-consuming, like being underwater, and when Josephine finally pulled away Cassandra breathed like she had just broke the surface of a lake after diving straight to the bottom. Josephine stared up at her, breathing just as heavy and erratic, smiling widely. “You’re quite talented,” she said.

“Oh.” Cassandra felt all her anxieties creeping back into her chest. Her hands went back to fidgeting with themselves. “I...thank you.” What did she do now? Lady Montilyet had just  _ kissed _ her, and then had complimented her kissing! “I’m not well-practiced,” she admitted.

Josephine laughed. “If you need a partner to test your skills, I happily volunteer.” Someone knocked on the door and Cassandra jumped. Josephine laughed again and moved in to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry if that was a little overwhelming,” she murmured against Cassandra’s ear. “I’ll see who’s at the door, and you can take your leave if you need some time to yourself.” She drew back, looking up at Cassandra with a softer expression. “I hope I did not take any liberties with you?”

Cassandra quickly shook her head. “No!” Josephine laughed and Cassandra knew her whole face had to be bright red at this point. “No, it was fine. Just unexpected.”

Whoever was at the door knocked again and Josephine called, “Coming!” She crossed the room and opened it, revealing Isabela standing in the doorway in full floorshow regalia. If Cassandra has to guess, she was dressed like a pirate...a pirate with little regard for protecting herself. Instead of pants, she wore garters and fishnet stockings, a bodice instead of a shirt, and she wore the most ridiculously large hat with at least three brightly colored feathers sticking out from one of the corners. She caught sight of Cassandra immediately, her brows shooting up.

“Well, I certainly hope you did.”

Cassandra coughed and moved toward the door. “I’ll take my leave.” She waited a few tense seconds while Isabela looked her over, then finally stepped aside and allowed Cassandra to retreat.

_ I need a bath _ , she thought as she walked back to her room.  _ A bath and some privacy. _ On her way downstairs, however, Varric grabbed her elbow. “What?”

Varric flinched when she rounded on him. “Jeez, you okay?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Sorry. My mind had wandered.”

“Well, since Fenris hasn’t been found yet, I was hoping you could monitor the floor show.”

Cassandra nodded. “I’ll change and be down.” Here was something she could do: prowl the floor show, be intimidating, kick out the drunkards. This was something she could do with confidence, that she did not need to second-guess herself on.  _ What a fucking relief. _

~*~

“Did I interrupt something?” Isabela asked once Cassandra disappeared down the hall, batting her eyelashes excessively.

“Ugh, only the fact that I was finally getting somewhere.” Josephine rolled her eyes and stepped aside, allowing Isabela to walk inside. “This had better be a good interruption.”

“Varric says that if you’re in for the night, he’d appreciate having us run our pirate queen routine for the floor show.”

“Fine, I’ll meet you in costume.” Despite Isabela interrupting her for a legitimate reason, she still could not help feeling annoyed. If nothing else had happened with Cassandra that night, she had been looking forward to at least relieving some of the tension for herself.

“Not so fast. What was going on with you and the brute?”

Josephine shrugged. “Nothing.”

“A month is coming up faster than you think, Josie. You’ve got to get to work.”

_ Oh, the bet _ . Josephine had completely forgotten it. “I know,” she lied. “I just need a bit more time. There are two weeks yet.” She had forgotten the bet, and she had spent the entire evening trying to kiss Cassandra purely because she  _ wanted _ her.

Isabela laughed. “Oh Josie, I’m going to have that ring yet if you keep dragging your feet.”

Josephine scowled and marched out into the hall. “You won’t, because I am not going to lose.” The thought of the bet made her stomach churn. What had she asked for in return? A stupid hat?  _ What would Cassandra think if she knew? _

Isabela laughed even more and followed her to the dressing rooms. “We’ll see, Josie. I think someone’s catching feelings.”

The mocking statement sat uneasily in Josephine’s heart. Her thoughts dwelled on the kiss, on Isabela’s unpleasant reminder, and her own anxieties all through the process of changing into her costume and applying stage makeup. As soon as they were backstage, however, she could not afford to dwell on it further. She took a deep breath and tried to recall her lines for the routine. She adjusted the straps on her “maiden’s gown” which was little more than an artfully torn shift.

The stage cannon sounded and Josephine leapt into action, jumping out onto stage with a scream. She tossed a terrified look over her shoulder, raised her arm in defense, and waited for Isabela to come after her. “Stay back, you sea witch!” she yelled, then retreated farther onto center stage.

“A sea witch?” Isabela called. She carried a length of prop chains that rattled like chimes. “I’ll have you know you’re talking to the Jewel of the Amaranthine! The Siren of the Waking Sea! You shall do better to respect me, girl.”

The crowd released a round of  _ Ooooooh _ ’s at the statement. Josephine stood up and withdrew the prop dagger from her costume. “Filthy pirate! Your armada sunk my father’s ship!”

Isabela flicked the chain out like a whip, and though it did not even make contact with Josephine, she cried out and dropped the dagger anyway. “Ah yes! The merchant! I see the resemblance now.” Isabela strode forward and wrapped the chain around her middle, clipping it in place as she crossed downstage of Josephine. “You could do better than being the daughter of some merchant,” Isabela drawled. “Why not mistress to the pirate queen?” She nudged Josephine in the back and she faked a stumble forward.

Josephine gasped. “Never! I am a woman of honor!”

She scanned the crowd now that she was fully downstage. Cassandra stood in the back, as usual. Josephine flashed her a brief smile, then turn it into a gasp of shock at whatever lewd proposal Isabela had just rattled off. 

The performance went smoothly. People laughed and cheered. A few admirers tossed them flowers. When Josephine finally made it offstage, she felt much less anxious. She sighed and went to the wash basin, rinsing a rag before carefully wiping away her makeup. She was contemplating a bath, or perhaps finding Cassandra to join her for one, when Varric walked into the dressing room. “Good evening,” she called, then turned back to her reflection in the mirror as she removed her earrings.

Varric walked over to her vanity and stopped. “Evening,” he said, his hard gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

Josephine finished removing her last earring and turned to him. “Did you wish to discuss something?”

Varric sighed and nodded toward the hallway. “Join me in my office. This will only take a moment.”

“Of course,” Josephine grabbed a robe from a nearby coat stand and slipped it on. “Does this have to do with the ball?”

“You could say that.” They strode out into the hall and down the corridor to where Varric kept his office. He paused at the doorway and gestured for her to walk in, then shut the door behind her. Varric’s office looked cozy as ever, with red drapes drawn across the single window, two candles burning at his desk in a large lantern, and his old crossbow mounted on the wall behind his desk. “Have a seat.” He gestured at one of the comfortable leather armchairs in the corner. Josephine remembered the first time she had taken a seat in one of them. She had been crying, her makeup running, and Varric had brought her in from a nearby cafe’s outdoor seating area. “ _ My lady, please, there is no need to cry in public. At least come do it in comfort.” _ She did not know why she had followed him back to the  _ Fleur de Vin _ . Varric seemed kind, something she had struggled to encounter in the days leading up to her breakdown. He had never failed to prove his kindness in the following days.

Josephine sank into one of the chairs. Varric took the one opposite hers. “So, what is going on?” she asked.

Varric sighed and settled further back in his chair. “What’s going on with you and Cassandra?”

“I beg your pardon.” Josephine did not blush easily anymore, but her face suddenly felt hot.

“During the floorshow you smiled at her and she suddenly had a coughing fit. So, is anything going on there?” Judging by his tone, Varric had not pulled her into his office for gossip.

Josephine crossed her arms and sighed. “It’s just a fling, Varric.”

“Oh really? Because the entire time you’ve been at the  _ Fleur de Vin _ , you haven’t once taken a lover.” Varric fixed her with a hard stare. “You know I don’t care what you all do in your personal time. Zevran and Fenris carried on enough that the whole staff knew. But you, you don’t let people in like that.”

“Isabela made a bet. I’m just playing along.”

“Like that information is supposed to make me feel better about this?” Varric pushed himself up out of the chair. “I don’t care what the two of you do together. I care about you being able to do your job. You and Cassandra both. This isn’t something you normally do Josephine. Just…Just…” He paused and took a breath. “Just be careful.” He walked over to the door and pulled it open. He gestured toward the hall. “You can go now. Sorry to patronize you.”

Josephine stood, and on her way out paused to rest her hand on Varric’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry to worry you.” She withdrew her hand and walked out into the hall. Behind her, Varric shut the door with a soft thud.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, a sex scene. The 'E' rating is finally earned.

If Fenris were anywhere in the city, none of Varric’s contacts could find him. Cassandra could have guessed this. If anyone from  _ her _ past had come around, she would want to be as far away as possible. Two days passed and she heard nothing. Furthermore, she had to cover Fenris’s shifts until Varric found someone else trustworthy, meaning that she had not found another spare moment with Josephine. The closest they had gotten was passing each other in the hall. Josephine had grabbed her shoulder and stopped her, fixed her with a gaze so smouldering Cassandra was shocked her tunic did not burst into flame.

“Do you have a moment?” she had asked. Her hand slowly slid down Cassandra’s bicep, fingers closing around the muscle. The pressure of her fingers was more than enough to set Cassandra’s imagination racing.

Cassandra swallowed against a tightness in her throat. “I--well…”

“Cassandra!” Varric barked from the end of the hall. “No one’s guarding the entryway.”

Cassandra tried to voice an apology, nodding at Varric. “I-he…”

Josephine let go of her arm. “Later, then.”

Now, Josephine sat in her usual place. She had one leg draped over the high-backed chair’s arm, which Cassandra had learned was her favorite wait to sit, letting the slit in her purple silk dress fall open along her leg, all the way up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. This was perhaps her most scandalous of dresses, she had also learned. Cassandra had a hard time looking away from the sight. Distracting thoughts of running her hands over that exposed thigh kept flitting through her mind. She imagined bunching up the silk in her hand, pushing it higher, bringing her free hand between Josephine’s legs and touching--

“Cassandra!”

She started, turning to see Leliana standing next to her, brow furrowed. “Yes?” she asked, trying to fight the urge to blush.

“Where were you?” Leliana asked. “You didn’t so much as say hello when I asked how you fare.”

“Oh.” Cassandra glanced over at Josephine, who bit her lip to keep a grin in check, then shifted so that the slit of her dress opened wider still. If it fell open any further... _ Maker preserve me, there will be nothing left to conceal. _ “I am well, thanks,” she said, her voice sounding strangely rough in her throat. “You?”

Leliana glanced from her to Josephine, then back to her. “Fine,” she said, an edge of suspicion in her tone. “Careful not to let your thoughts wander too far.” She drifted away and lay down among the pile of cushions with the others.

Zevran chuckled and nudged her calf with his foot. “Leliana, leave her alone. She is having to do so much more work while Fenris takes his leave of absence.”

Anders snorted and settled further back against Isabela, who braided his hair with delicate little daisies. “Is he going to come back then, Zev?”

Zevran shrugged. “His is not hiding, this I know. I am sure whenever he concludes his business, he will return.”

Leliana turned to Zevran, arching a brow. “What exactly  _ do _ you know?”

“Only what he has told me, and that was in confidence.  _ Lo siento. _ ”

Cassandra let her gaze drift back to Josephine, who still stared at her through half-lidded eyes. Her dress draped low, revealing her ample cleavage. She smiled and drifted a hand to her collarbone, trailing her fingers down until they snagged a hemline. She tugged lower. Cassandra held her breath lest she make an unseemly noise. Josephine smiled even more, her teeth pressing into her lower lip.

Josephine stood and Cassandra inhaled sharply. She winked, then walked through the mess of tangled limbs. “I believe I’m going to take the evening for myself. I have no more clients scheduled as it is.” She maintained eye contact with Cassandra as she said, “I think a bath is in order.”

As she walked away, Cassandra’s thoughts began racing.  _ Surely she knows I am bound to my post. Does she expect me to bathe with her? Does Varric have any spare guards? Will it be too suspicious if I fake an illness?  _ The thoughts clashed in her mind all at once.

The minutes ticked by and Cassandra grudgingly resigned herself to remain at her post. Soon after, however, the dwarf guard Oghren thudded on over next to her, full plate armor clunking noisily, and gave her hip a shove. “Move along, tall, dark, and stormy. It’s  _ my _ turn to be scary.”

Cassandra sneered down at him, but internally her heart leapt. “You’re on duty?” she asked.

Oghren nodded. “You’ve been taking all the good overtime wages. Some of us have expensive hobbies to go with our dark pasts.” Cassandra pushed off the wall and was about to walk away when Oghren inhaled with a loud  _ sniff _ . “Oh, and you stink like a nug’s stye. Take a bath.”

“Ugh.” Cassandra would have challenged his statement, probably saying something about how at least she didn’t smell like a vat of ale unlike  _ some  _ people, but instead took off for the baths as fast as possible. She walked downstairs, trying to slow down her gait lest someone catch her running. She paused at a door that had been left cracked open, pushed it open, and peeked inside.

Josephine sat in the bath, naked and divested of her jewelry. She smiled and crooked her finger at Cassandra. Shuffling inside and fumbling with the door’s lock, Cassandra tried to ignore the heat blooming across her face. Josephine laughed as her hands kept slipping on the latch. She eventually succeeded and abruptly turned around. Josephine spread her arms out, resting them on the edges of the tub. “Oghren relayed my message?”

Cassandra pursed her lips and inhaled. Her whole body trembled. What was she doing here? What were she and Josephine  _ going  _ to do here? In all her life, she had never been inclined to such desperate, rushed acts of passion. And yet here she stood. “It was unnecessary. I understood your intention the first time.”

“I wanted to make sure I was clear.” Josephine sat up straighter, revealing more of the glistening, wet skin of her chest. Cassandra traced the path of droplets rolling over her breasts. “You seem tense. Why not join me?”

Giving a stilted nod, Cassandra stepped forward and started unbuckling her armor, starting with her gauntlets and letting them clatter to the floor, then moving to her leather jerkin, tugging impatiently at the laces. She remained acutely aware of Josephine’s gaze on her as she clumsily stripped out of her clothing. Finally, she stood naked before Josephine. She rubbed the back of her neck, unsure of what to do next.

“You look beautiful,” Josephine said, her voice soft.

Cassandra nodded and crossed an arm over her chest, holding onto her elbow. “Thank you.”

Josephine stood up, bath water sloshing off her. “Are you sure you wish to do this?”

Cassandra nodded again and took a deep breath. She forced her hands to remain at her sides and walked to the edge of the tub. “I do. I am just...It has been a very long time.”

Josephine walked over to her and stared up at her, brows drawn together in that same, concerned expression from before. She reached a hand up and caressed her forearm, letting her hand trail down until their fingers threaded together. “Come in.” She gave a soft tug, and Cassandra finally stepped down into the bath.

Josephine reached up and cupped her face with both hands. Unsure of what to do with her own hands, Cassandra flexed them awkwardly, then reached forward and placed them on Josephine’s hips.  _ Breathe. Breathe.  _ “I...assume you want to be intimate?” she asked.

Josephine let her hands slide down to grip Cassandra’s shoulders, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. Cassandra inhaled, catching the scent of her floral perfume. The smell was almost intoxicating by now. “I want whatever you are comfortable with,” she murmured, lips sliding over her jaw. Her hands squeezed her shoulders. “You’re trembling.”

“It has been a long time,” Cassandra repeated, finding herself mortified to continually admit it to someone so  _ obviously _ experienced.

Josephine smiled and stood on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to her lips. She only lingered briefly, and Cassandra whimpered as she pulled away. “Sit down. I will massage your shoulders, and then you can tell me if we are going to do anything else.” Her hands pressed down lightly on Cassandra’s shoulders, encouraging her to sink into the water. Once she sat down, Josephine moved behind her, hands slowly working in small circles around the tops of her shoulders.

Her fingers pressed more firmly, sliding down the back of her shoulder blades, pausing every so often when she found a spot that made Cassandra twinge. She would work her fingers over that place slowly, more gently, until the line of Cassandra’s shoulders relaxed again. The feel of Josephine’s fingers against her spine, sliding down her lower back, elicited a groan from the back of her throat.

Josephine chuckled. “Does that feel good?”

“Maker, yes.” Cassandra leaned back into the touch, only to gasp when she suddenly felt Josephine’s breasts pressing into her back. The soft, warm heat was not a sensation she was familiar with, but it felt  _ good _ all the same.

Josephine’s hands slid from her lower back to the sides of her hips. She leaned even closer, pressing their bodies flush together, allowing her warm thighs to settle on either side of Cassandra. “There are other places I can touch, if you like.” She kissed the side of Cassandra’s neck.

“I-” she groaned as Josephine let her teeth slide over a pulse point. Her very core throbbed with need. She was still nervous, yes, but more than anything she wanted Josephine to touch her. “Yes. Do whatever you like.”

Josephine chuckled, pressing one hand forward and sliding it over her lower abdomen. “With pleasure.” She places a kiss to Cassandra’s shoulder.

Cassandra drew in shallow breaths as she felt Josephine’s fingers press lower, raking through her pubic hair and stopping short for just a moment. Cassandra whimpered and rocked her hand forward. Her body felt as though it was wound too tight, and Josephine was the only way to relieve the pressure. “Don’t stop,” she muttered.

She felt Josephine’s fingers dip lower. Two pressed into her folds, trapping her aching clitoris between them, stroking up and down slowly. Cassandra moaned and tilted her head backward, resting on Josephine’s shoulder. Josephine began kissing her jawline, then raised her free hand to Cassandra’s chin, tilting her face so their lips could meet in a languid, heated kiss. Josephine’s fingers still stroked her clit, dipping lower and lower toward her entrance every time.

Cassandra felt the heat of Josephine’s tongue brush against her lips and she gasped. Their tongues met, pressing against on another in heated fervor. Cassandra felt herself releasing a string of undignified noises as Josephine continued to touch her, and she rolled her hips forward in earnest, craving more and more sensation. She broke their kiss and gasped. “I need-” She reached down and grabbed Josephine’s hand. “I need more.”

Josephine smiled and moved her hands back to Cassandra’s hips. “Then turn around.”

Cassandra moved hastily, sending water splashing as she turned, guided by the tugging of Josephine’s hands as she straddled her hips.

“Do you want me inside you?” Josephine asked.

Cassandra nodded hastily, gripping Josephine’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss her again, pressing her tongue forward. Something inside her  _ demanded _ this pleasure, as if her body had finally awoken and realized how long it had been. She felt fingers pressing between her folds again, two of them rubbing circles around her entrance, then sliding them in, curling them forward. Cassandra broke their kiss to cry out. Josephine thrust deeper, pulled back, then thrust again. Her other hand pressed between them, rising to clutch at Cassandra’s breast, rolling a sensitive nipple between her fingers. “Yes, Josephine,” she panted, hips rocking forward in earnest.

The way Josephine’s fingers slid in and out of her was maddening. A pressure was building inside her, one that she desperately wanted to release. She grunted and rolled her hips into every thrust. She was so close.  _ So close _ . “Mmf, ahh!” Guttural incantations fell from her lips. Josephine pressed her thumb to her clit and she saw stars. “Yes!” she cried, hips rutting forward clumsily. The pressure was even tighter. She teetered at the edge, the pleasure almost blinding it was so much.

“Come for me,” Josephine murmured.

Cassandra wrapped her arms around Josephine as though she held fast to the mast of a ship in a storm. Her body wracked with convulsions, a deep pulsating breaking free inside her as she toppled into her release.

When it ebbed, her grip loosened and she became aware of how hoarse her throat was. Josephine looked up at her with a reverent gaze, wearing a gentle smile. Slowly, she eased her fingers from Cassandra and placed her hands on her waist. “Goodness, you needed that. How long did you say it’s been?”

Cassandra groaned and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Josephine’s shoulder. Her body felt so satisfyingly limp after that. She could slither down into the bath and just fall asleep. “Several years,” she confessed.

Josephine’s hands moved to caress her back again. She cooed in sympathy and held Cassandra close. “Far too long for someone as gorgeous as you.”

The words stirred Cassandra. She sat upright and frowned down at Josephine. “Me, gorgeous?”

Josephine chuckled in that throaty way again, and Cassandra’s lower abdomen tightened. “Absolutely stunning,” she said, slightly breathless. “I have been aching to touch you since you began working here.”

Cassandra felt heat bloom across her chest, crawling up to engulf the tips of her ears. “Even though I am a brute? And I have too many scars?”

Josephine ran her hands up Cassandra’s chest and groaned. “Oh, trust me, those features are  _ precisely _ why you are so irresistible.”

Cassandra turned the words over in her head for a moment. She had never had a lover that complemented these parts about her. She simply thought they overlooked those parts of her body out of kindness. She dipped her head and captured Josephine’s lips in another kiss. She stroked her tongue against Josephine’s, relishing in their closeness. When they broke apart, she asked, “What do you want?”

Josephine, panting slightly, smiled up at her. “Maker, now that is a difficult decision.” She tilted her head back as she thought. “Since you are less practiced, I think you ought to decide. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable.” Josephine leaned forward and kissed her briefly. “I promise that I will enjoy every minute of it.”

Cassandra thought carefully, then said, “If it is alright with you, I would like to continue this on a bed.” She felt Josephine begin to trace small circles over her collarbone. “I would very much like to...kiss. And touch. And not have to worry about water.”

Josephine leaned forward and kissed her chin. “I can find that agreeable.” She nudged and Cassandra slid off her lap, standing on shaky legs. Josephine stood and offered Cassandra her arm. “We shall retire to my chambers,” she said with a wink.

Cassandra inhaled sharply, nervous excitement bunching inside her. She hardly paid attention as she briefly wiped off with a towel and tugged the bare minimum of clothing back on. Josephine laughed softly as she kept misstepping into her trousers. “Maker grant me grace,” she muttered, and Josephine laughed even more. She found, however, that she did not mind Josephine’s laugh. It did not feel like she was mocking here. Rather, it felt endearing. She glanced up at Josephine with a half-smile. “I am glad my clumsiness entertains you, my lady.”

Josephine crossed the room to her and cupped her face between her hands. “I adore you,” she said, then kissed Cassandra once again. She smiled against Josephine’s lips, the words ‘ _ I adore you’ _ echoing around in her mind. 


End file.
